


Sonata for Silence and Two Pairs of Stilettos

by hope_savaria



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Additional scenes, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heist Timeline, Heist Wives, Idiots in Love, New York City, POV Lou, Post-Canon, Post-Heist, Pre-Canon, Pre-Heist, Smut, Vignette, mention of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-02-16 19:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18697447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_savaria/pseuds/hope_savaria
Summary: Six Chapters ~ Twenty Years ~ One Jewel Heist of the Century ~ Two Criminals in LoveLou Miller isn't certain of much, but one thing's for sure: her life wouldn't be the same without Debbie Ocean in it.





	1. Allegro - The Firsts

**Author's Note:**

> Turns out, I couldn't get these two out of my head. This work bookends my other story (Diamonds, Rust, and Opals), which will fit chronologically between chapters 4 and 5 of this one. It's all one big headcannon, but the stories work on their own, too.
> 
> Thank you to go_get_your_top_hat for beta reading (as always), and for being the Lou to my Debbie (or vice versa - room for debate on that). I <3 U
> 
> Also, shout out to everyone who writes for this pairing and this fandom. I think you're great!
> 
> I will probably be posting chapters weekly unless I get over excited and decide to post sooner. We shall see.

**Winter 1999**

The subwoofer was turned up so loud that Lou couldn’t tell what song was blaring from the torn speaker ten feet away. She stood in the shadows, assessing, trying to find patterns in the movements of the bartenders. She tugged at the hem of her too-short dress and instinctively reached a hand to her neck to adjust her necklaces before remembering that she’d left them at home. They didn’t mesh with this disguise. She rubbed a hand over the back of her neck instead, trying to shake off the feeling that everything was going to go wrong. Perhaps it would be better to just let this one go. The take was a long shot – risky, especially for a one-woman job. It really would be smarter to walk, to pick a few pockets and be on her way. But even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew she wouldn’t listen.

Lou stepped out of the shadows and made her way to the bar, eyes darting over the heads of the dancers and focusing on each of the security cameras. They were cheap, and it hadn’t been difficult to seduce the security guy in charge to find out exactly what they could see. She just had to be sure the owner hadn’t added any additional cameras on a whim since she had last checked. But no, everything seemed normal, except…

“What are you drinking?” A man’s slightly slurred voice cut through Lou’s thoughts, and she groaned internally before looking around at him. His face was already far too close to hers, and his light brown eyes were hard, determined. It wasn’t worth the argument to refuse him.  

“Vodka soda,” she said in what she hoped was a passable American accent. It was always better not to stand out, but she hated how the words didn’t feel like hers. She tucked a strand of brown hair from her wig behind her ear, and let her eyes travel over the man next to her as he ordered them each a drink from the closest bartender. He stood at eye height to her and wore a casual-fit v-neck T-shirt and dark jeans. Bright red kicks poked out from under the hems of his pants. His hair was brown and he had a tattoo of an anchor on the wrist of his right hand, which Lou noticed as he reached into his back pocket to pull out a black leather wallet.

Lou’s eyes darted over his shoulder, scanning the corner behind the bar where the wall met the ceiling. Maybe she _had_ missed it before. After all, the strobe lights meant plenty of distractions. But no. The faint red light of the security camera in that corner was gone. She let her gaze travel along the edge of the ceiling. Even as she watched, the light of the camera across from her at the other end of the bar flickered and went out. _Get out_ , a voice said in the back of her head. _Get out._ This wasn’t part of her plan. She needed the security footage to work to her advantage.

“Shit,” the man next to her slurred.

“What?” She asked, turning back to him with a vapid smile.

“Some asshole stole my cash. Sorry, sweetheart. Maybe next time?”

Lou garbled a sympathetic response and side-stepped him as he made to pull her into his side.

“Hey, I didn’t get your number?” he called.

But she was already gone, moving swiftly through the crowd back towards the shadows in the corner by the speakers. Maybe it was her eyes playing tricks on her, what with all the strobes and the rainbow disco ball, but she could have sworn she’d seen someone catch her eye as she’d swept her gaze to the camera in that corner. It couldn’t have been more than a quarter of a second, but something told her the glance was calculated. _It could be a trap_ , the voice in her head told her, but she didn’t listen. Lou reached the emergency exit in the corner just as the door was latching shut. She flung her shoulder against it and pushed her way into the alleyway.

“ _Fuck_.” She’d forgotten how cold it was, and the lacy tights she was wearing did nothing to impede the chilly air. She tugged her light blazer more closely around her shoulders without slowing her pace, eyes now fixed on the dark-coated figure in front of her. She caught up and clutched at an elbow, swinging her quarry a little more firmly than intended into the brick wall beside them.

“You want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Lou let the American accent fade away.  

Brown eyes surrounded by black eyeliner stared back at her under the hood of a dark, tweed jacket. The woman’s blonde wig had slipped slightly to one side and Lou could see her dark hair peeking out over her left ear. For a split second, her face showed surprise, but almost as soon as Lou had registered the expression, it was gone, replaced by an impassive half-smile.

“Shhh, there are cameras,” the woman said in a quiet, sing-song voice.

“We both know there aren’t,” Lou retorted, but she lowered her voice all the same.

“So, you _were_ looking. I thought so.” She moved so quickly that Lou gasped as her back hit the wall, their positions now reversed. The other woman’s breath ghosted across her face and Lou shivered. This woman stood as tall as she did, which was saying something.  

“Who are you?” Lou countered harshly, overcompensating for the confidence she didn’t feel. She was half-expecting the glint of a badge on the inside of the woman’s coat, to be caught at last, but she saw nothing. Nothing except a few wads of twenty-dollar bills poking out of the inner pocket of the tweed jacket. Lou relaxed slightly. _No honor among thieves,_ Lou told herself, but anything – anyone – was better than the police.

“I could ask you the same thing, but a little bird told me that some Australian dyke had her eye on this place, and I wanted to find out for myself.” The woman’s eyes dropped to the hem of Lou’s too-tight, too-short sparkly dress and then flicked back up to her face. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Yeah, well, you’d be surprised.” Lou reached up and pulled her wig off, letting her blonde fringe fall into her eyes. She straightened her back against the wall behind her, and allowed the last of the pretty-girl persona to relax out of her body. There was a satisfied glint in the eyes of the woman before her as she took a step back and pulled off her wig, too, revealing long brown hair pinned to the side. The woman settled herself next to Lou with her back against the wall. Lou pulled a cigarette case from the pocket of her blazer and held it out to the woman.

“No, thanks.”

Lou shrugged and lit up, watching the smoke float up towards the stars, trying to ignore the way the woman’s eyes were still fixed on her, sizing her up. The silence stretched between them, an elastic band ready to snap.

“So,” Lou said finally, half her cigarette already burned to ash, “what do you want?”

“I’ve had my eyes on this place, too,” the woman said. “The owner’s an—”

“—Asshole.” Lou finished the sentence for her.

The woman nodded. “And his record’s not exactly clean.”

Lou let out a grunt of laughter. “You could say that.”

“But he rakes in—”

“—six figures a year.” Lou tilted her head slightly, impressed in spite of herself at the woman’s apparent knowledge.  

“Doesn’t seem fair does it?” The woman turned towards Lou with one shoulder still leaning against the wall.

“No, it doesn’t.” Lou turned to face her as well.

“Figured I could make a dent in that salary,” the woman said with a raised eyebrow.

“And?”

“And set up some… _incentives_ , in case he thinks he can return to his _quid pro quo_ ways.”

Lou grinned and took a final drag of her cigarette before smashing the butt under the toe of her silver stiletto.

“And you?” The woman prompted.

“Similar motives.” Lou shrugged. “Saw one too many girls come out of his office with smeared lipstick.” She paused and caught the woman’s eye next to her. “Had my eye on a few places, but that did it for me.”

“You want the club?” The woman tilted her head with a satisfied smile that told Lou she already knew the answer.

“I want the club.”

“I’m Debbie Ocean.” The woman stuck out her hand. Lou looked down at it, unsure how she’d gained her trust, but feeling her heart lift. _She’s an Ocean_ , the voice in her head warned. _You know that name._  

But Lou took her hand and shook it all the same. “Lou Miller.”

“Are you acting alone, _Lou Miller_?” Debbie asked, pushing herself away from the wall and turning towards the entrance to the alleyway. Lou fell into step beside her without thinking.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I need a partner. It’s a lonely world out here for a woman in crime. What do you say?”

Lou shook her head in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Always,” Debbie said, flashing Lou a grin that sparkled in the Steamboat Club’s neon sign as they emerged onto Westchester Avenue. “I watched you tonight. I know when someone’s good. You’re good.”

Lou looked sideways at her, feeling excitement building. Falling in with an Ocean was a risky business. They were _good_ , but when they got caught, the stakes tended to be higher. And yet…it was an offer she couldn’t refuse.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Debbie Ocean,” Lou said. “And if this one works, I might stick around.”

Debbie nodded, pulled a twenty-dollar bill from one of the wads in her pocket, and scrawled an address across Andrew Jackson’s face. “Here,” she said, slipping the note into Lou’s hand, “that’s from the chump who was trying to buy you a drink. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With a fleeting touch to Lou’s shoulder, Debbie disappeared into the crowd.

Lou stood on the sidewalk with her head spinning, clutching the crumpled twenty dollars in her hand, and trying to make sense of the last twenty minutes. Debbie _Ocean._ The name ran through her mind in a pattern as rhythmic as the tide itself. She could still feel Debbie’s hand in hers, smooth and strong. Her fingers had brushed the edge of an expensive watch on her wrist. The cold didn’t seem as bothersome anymore, not when she could still feel Debbie’s warm breath on her cheek. With a smile, Lou turned and made her way down the street, past the club and into the night. One thing was certain: her life was about to change.

 

**

 

“Are you serious?” Lou blurted out, sitting across from Debbie a week later with the actual numbers in front of her.

“One hundred percent,” Debbie replied with a grin. “I have to admit, even I underestimated the take.”

Lou leaned her chair back from the table on two legs and wolf whistled at Debbie. Fifty thousand dollars each. Debbie had only promised twenty.

“Think that’ll be enough for you to get your foot in the door?” Debbie asked with a wink.

Lou ran a hand over the necklaces at her throat and let the front legs of her chair fall back onto the tile floor where they belonged with a loud *clunk*. “Uh…yeah,” she said through a laugh. “Yeah, that should do it.”

Debbie smiled and pushed some of the paperwork across the table to Lou. The numbers had far more zeroes attached to them than she was used to, and Lou was finding it increasingly difficult to play it cool.

“We should celebrate,” Debbie said, as she got up from the table and walked over to Lou’s fridge. “You got any booze?”

“Not much,” Lou replied, glancing up briefly from the pages in front of her. Her mind was running over the next steps in the plan, already picturing herself buying out the misogynistic club owner with his own money. There was something poetic about it, elegant in a way that her solo schemes had never managed to be.

“I’ll go pick up some stuff,” Debbie said, “Back in a few.” She grabbed her coat and was out of the door in a flurry of brown hair and tweed.

Lou stood up from the table and stretched, reveling in the idea that something had finally gone right in her life. Everything had been rough for a while, but this…this was what she had been waiting for. Debbie Ocean had crashed into her life with all the subtlety of a tornado, and everything would be better now, easier. Debbie made everything feel easy. God, she could _kiss_ her. Lou stopped herself as that thought crossed her mind. _No_ , she said to herself, _no. Best not fuck this one up._ As she tried (unsuccessfully) to push the thought away, Lou felt her pulse quicken slightly.

To distract herself, Lou switched on the battered television set in the corner and grinned at the anchorman’s confusion as he (once again) ran through the facts of last night’s events at the Steamboat Club, repeating the same baffled turns of phrase the police had used in their press conference earlier. Lou shook her head yet again in disbelief at the elegance of Debbie’s plan, how it fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. It was airtight in a way that Lou had never seen before. Each contingency was accounted for, each margin of error calculated to the nth degree. Foolproof. Nothing could penetrate the plan, except…The anchorman tapped at his earpiece, clearly listening to an incoming report, and Lou held her breath.

“This is breaking news, folks,” he said, pausing to listen to the voice in his ear. “We’re getting reports of an explosion at the Steamboat. Emergency personnel on the scene are saying it’s a gas explosion. Stay tuned.”

Lou kept watching, but she wasn’t really seeing the screen anymore, even as images of the gutted night club began to pop into view. She felt numb. True, they’d gotten the money, but she had wanted that club more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. It had symbolized something so much bigger, and just like that, the dream was gone again. And now she was just another thirty-year-old without a plan.

“Hey!” Debbie’s voice called from the door as her heels clicked over the threshold and onto the kitchen tiles once more. “Wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I got wine, beer, vodka, bourbon…” She faltered as Lou turned her face towards her. “What’s going on?” Debbie asked, coming to join Lou in front of the television.

Lou couldn’t speak. She gestured to the screen, tugged the bourbon out of the bag in Debbie’s hand, and slumped onto the couch.

“ _Shit_ ,” Debbie said as yet another image flashed across the screen, this time showing the crumbled remains of the Steamboat’s roof.

“Yeah.” It was all Lou could manage. She knew she was probably overreacting. After all, she still had fifty-thousand fresh dollars in her bank account and there were plenty of other clubs in New York City, but all the same, she had _hoped_. Unable to watch anymore, she dug for the remote and turned off the television set. At least the bourbon Debbie had bought was high quality.

“I’m sorry,” Debbie said sinking down on the couch next to her. “I mean, I know you wanted the club.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence, passing the bourbon back and forth. Lou could feel the buzz starting at the edges of her brain, dulling the initial shock of what had happened. It didn’t make her feel better; if anything, it made her feel even more disappointed in herself for becoming so attached. It was just a _club_ , after all, and it was better for it to blow up now than after she’d forked over the money for it, but _still_ …it wasn’t usual for her dreams to go up in smoke quite this literally.

“You did good, you know.” Debbie broke the silence as she turned to face Lou on the couch. “I’d like to keep you around.”

Lou scoffed, but looked over at her all the same, screwing the top back onto the bourbon.

“I’m serious, Lou,” Debbie said, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Lou’s knee. Lou could feel the warmth of her skin through her leather pants, and she wasn’t sure she liked the way her pulse beat faster at the touch.

“I don’t know whether you’re asking me on a date or to rob a bank,” Lou said.

“We can always do both, baby,” Debbie replied, shifting closer to Lou on the couch. Her eyes met Lou’s with a searching gaze that made butterflies erupt in Lou’s stomach. Debbie tightened her grip on Lou’s thigh and leaned forward. Her nose brushed against Lou’s jaw.

“What do you want, Debbie?” Lou said in a wary voice that came out more breathless than she expected.  

“I like jobs,” Debbie murmured, her lips hovering over Lou’s cheekbone.

Lou raised her eyebrows and didn’t say anything. Her heart was beating fast in her throat.

“I like money,” Debbie went on. Her breath was warm on the pulse point of Lou’s neck.

Lou shivered. It truly wasn’t fair that Debbie could make her feel this way. The casual touches they’d shared over the past week had felt like fire, and today wasn’t the first time she’d wanted to kiss her, to close the distance between them once and for all. But she _liked_ Debbie. Regardless of her physical attraction to her, she didn’t want her to disappear just as soon as they were getting started. _Don’t fuck the people you work with_ , Lou told herself.

“I liked working with you.” Debbie’s lips were an inch from hers now, and it was a miracle really that Debbie didn’t seem to hear just how loudly Lou’s heart was beating in her ears, drowning out everything else.

“I liked working with you, too.” Lou managed to rasp out the words just as Debbie’s lips met hers. The heat of Debbie’s mouth and the lingering taste of the bourbon on both of their tongues made the kiss feel like fire. Lou’s hands tangled in Debbie’s hair pulling her closer. She felt a moan escape Debbie’s throat as her hands moved to Lou’s hips, fingers digging greedily into flesh. Lou’s head spun as they surfaced for air a few minutes later. The room felt too bright, overexposed and raw in the wintry midday light filtering through her cheap-shit curtains. Debbie was breathing heavily, and Lou leaned her forehead against hers, matching her breaths as they both calmed down.

“So, what’s your answer?” Debbie breathed the words into Lou’s ear.

Lou let out a low, sharp giggle of laughter. “Is this your plan? To _seduce_ me to be your partner-in-crime?”

“Oh, you’re one to talk about seduction. You know, most people wear shirts underneath vests.” Debbie ran a finger along the edge of Lou’s purple velvet vest over her collarbone. Lou rolled her eyes, internally thankful for her own wardrobe choices. She’d thought about toning it down around Debbie, considered options that were a little more designer and a little less steam punk, but had decided against it. If she truly wanted Lou as a partner, Debbie would have to handle her eclectic closet.

“So?” Debbie said again. Her eyes were soft, yet determined.

“I would say, buy me a drink first, but you’ve sort of covered that, plus fifty-thousand dollars,” Lou said with a wink, picking up the bottle of bourbon once more and taking a swig.  

“Is that a yes?” Debbie asked, eagerly.

“Yes.”

“To the date or to robbing a bank?”

“ _Yes._ ”


	2. Theme and Variations - The Fall

**Autumn 2007**

Lou was filling a plate at the casino’s all-you-can-eat buffet when the alarm went off. She checked her watch as she put the plate down, expecting a wave of satisfaction, but no, something was wrong. The alarm was four minutes and twenty-two seconds early, and Debbie hadn’t given her any signals that they’d had to speed up the job. Something was wrong. As frustrated tourists filed towards the exits, Lou’s eyes scanned the crowd. They had to get out of here. Everything in her body was telling her to run, but she couldn’t, not without Debbie. She was supposed to be coming out of a door by the staircase, but Lou’s sight line was blocked by shoulders and hats and cigarette smoke. Where _was_ she? Panic rose in Lou’s chest. What if she’d been caught? They always planned to go down together, if – or when – the time came. One for all and all for one. Lou didn’t care about the job anymore. She just had to find Debbie. _Debbie._

Vice-like fingers fastened over Lou’s upper arm and a familiar voice breathed in her ear: “ _Run_.”

Relief flooded Lou’s body. Debbie’s fingers ran down her arm and intertwined with Lou’s, and they ran. Lou knew the route; she’d had it memorized for weeks. All the same, she’d hoped they wouldn’t have to use it. Debbie planned escape plans as thoroughly as she planned everything else, but recently, they’d had to use them far more frequently than was comfortable. Last time, their pickpocket had pickpocketed the wrong mark, and everything had fallen apart from there.

They reached the alleyway behind one of the emergency exits, still surrounded by indignant and anxious tourists. The crisp October air felt refreshing after the smoky, crowded rooms of the casino. They slowed to a walk, trying to blend in with the group, meandering towards the main road. Debbie pulled Lou down an adjacent alleyway before they reached the bright lights.

“Ditch the wig,” she muttered, pulling her own from her head. Lou made to pull hers off, too, but Debbie got there first, tugging Lou’s wig off and stuffing it into the inside pocket of her coat. She ran her fingers through Lou’s messy blonde hair with a sigh.

“What happened?” Lou asked.

“Not sure yet,” Debbie said with a shrug, as they slid back into the crowd of tourists. Lou could practically hear the gears turning in Debbie’s head as she worked out what had gone wrong. She gripped Debbie’s hand reassuringly as they emerged onto the main road in front of the casino, and Debbie squeezed back. Lou took a deep breath for the first time since the alarm had sounded. Her bike was parked behind an old liquor store about a quarter of a mile away. Only she and Debbie knew where it was. The hacker and the fence they’d brought on board for this job had their own escape plans, purposely kept secret from the rest of the team, just in case someone decided to talk or to walk. The jobs had always been smoother when they could really trust the people they were working with, but they hadn’t had that luxury for a while, not since Tammy “retired.”

“Four minutes and twenty-two seconds,” Debbie muttered after another fifty yards of walking in silence. The crowds had dissipated now. Lou could see the sign for the liquor store up ahead. Only the U and the R were still working, and the R was flickering as though it would give up at any moment. Lou stayed silent; she knew Debbie would speak when she was ready. Hopefully the drive back to New York would give her some time to get her thoughts together. When they reached the dimly lit parking lot, Lou was pleased to see a few other cars. It was always better to make an escape in the open. She unlocked the bike and tossed a helmet towards Debbie whose eyes were still unfocused. Lou knew she was retracing the plan step by step, searching for the fatal flaw.

Lou climbed onto the bike and felt Debbie settle against her back, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. The warmth of her was comforting. Debbie’s mind might be miles away, but her body was solid and warm. The disappointment hadn’t sunk in yet, but maybe it wouldn't this time. Maybe this was just what they had to expect from now on. Maybe it would be better to just lay low for a while, run some cheap cons to get by, stay under the radar. Maybe it would be better to give it up all together, buy a club, settle down. But that was her dream, not Debbie’s, and somehow it had become harder and harder for Lou to picture a future without Debbie in it. That scared Lou more than any number of failed jobs. Without Debbie, Lou wasn’t sure who she was anymore. The wind roared in her ears and she felt cold now, alone despite the weight of Debbie pressed against her back.

The lights of New York grew brighter as they sped eastwards, reflecting a sickly-orange light off of the low-hanging clouds. Lou could remember a time when this stretch of road had made her heart lift every time, when that skyline had meant the opening of her entire world. It felt different now, as though New York City had left her behind. They had run strong for almost ten years, but the last six months had been a disaster. Debbie’s plans were still solid, but their luck had run out. Where had all the good thieves gone? There was no one to trust but each other.  

Debbie’s face looked calmer by the time Lou parked the bike in the underground garage attached to the high-end apartments down the street from their one-bedroom flat. She was still quiet as they walked the familiar half mile back home, but there was less rigidity in her movements. She walked with her head held high as ever, and Lou mirrored her posture and her stride, falling into step beside Debbie as she always did. Lou tried not to think about the dwindling numbers in her bank account as she unlocked the door to their apartment. They wouldn’t be able to afford this place much longer if things kept going south.

“It was the fence,” Debbie said, before Lou had time to ask. She crossed the kitchen to the old gas stove and grabbed the kettle, filled it with water from the tap, and placed it back on the stove. Lou tossed her the matches to light the burner.

“What gave it away?” Lou asked.

Debbie shrugged. “He wasn’t as good as Tammy.”

It wasn’t exactly an answer to Lou’s question, but she knew more was coming. Debbie had to talk herself towards the answer. 

“He was panicking when I passed him on the stairs,” Debbie continued after a moment, leaning with her back against the sink, her face tilted upwards towards the ceiling and her eyes closed. “I _saw_ it, but I thought he’d pull himself together.”

Lou sighed and began taking her necklaces off one by one. She pulled a few pickpocketed wallets from her coat and set them on the table, too. The clatter of metal on wood seemed to catch Debbie’s attention and she opened her eyes.

“Here,” she said, “I got a few, too.” She pulled out two wads of cash and a wallet from the inside of her jacket and added them to the pile. “Someone had just cashed in their chips.” She gestured to the cash as she turned to take down teabags and two mugs from the cabinet. Debbie poured their tea in silence and passed Lou her cup.

“Thanks,” Lou said quietly. She blew on the tea and looked at Debbie over the rim of her cup. “I’m sorry, Debs.”

Debbie nodded and caught her eye with a sad smile on her face.

“It was a good plan, Debbie,” Lou continued. “We couldn’t have known he would fuck it up. At least he didn’t call the police.”

“Yeah.”

Lou leaned her head against Debbie’s shoulder, wishing they could turn the clock backwards three weeks and find a different fence, or a different job all together.  

“I just—” Debbie began and broke off. Lou nuzzled her head into Debbie’s neck and felt Debbie’s chin come to rest by her temple. “Maybe I don’t know how to do it anymore,” Debbie said finally. She sounded matter-of-fact, but Lou caught the slightest note of despair in her voice, hidden under layers of iron-sided stoicism. Debbie wordlessly gestured to the fridge where a post-card from Las Vegas and a newspaper clipping from the previous summer were stuck next to each other with magnets.

“Danny?” Lou asked.

“He just… _gets_ it, Lou,” Debbie said, wrapping an arm around Lou’s shoulders and pulling her close.

“So do you,” Lou countered.

“Not like that.”

“You’re smart, Debs,” Lou said. It was an understatement. “You’ve – we’ve – just had shitty luck lately.” Lou fell silent, wondering if she should suggest – as she had before – that they tone it down for a while, lie low and build up their savings. Maybe they could wait until spring and hit Coney Island. She decided to plow ahead. “We can play it slow for a while, you know?” Lou said, testing the waters.

Debbie didn’t say anything, but Lou felt her press her lips against her hairline.

“There’s a Bingo hall in Jersey that’s just begging to be rigged, and even that place we were tonight has chips that could be duplicated by a monkey.” Lou was rewarded with a clear – albeit brief – laugh from Debbie that tickled the hairs against her forehead.

“You’re right,” Debbie said through a sigh before Lou could keep talking. She sounded resigned.

“It’ll be okay, Debbie.” Lou raised her head and caught a defeated look in Debbie’s eyes that she hadn’t seen before. Debbie didn’t cry, not unless it was part of a disguise, but this was somehow worse than tears.

“And you’ll stick around?” Debbie’s tone contained a teasing note, but Lou sensed real fear in the words. Debbie tucked a strand of hair behind Lou’s ear, and Lou leaned into the touch.

“Yeah, Debs. I’ll stick around.” It felt true, at least for now.

Debbie set her half-empty tea cup on the table and took Lou’s hand. She tugged gently and Lou took the hint, setting her own mug down and following Debbie into their tiny bedroom. Debbie’s hand was soft in hers, and Lou found that she didn’t want to let go. Tenderness wasn’t how they did things. There was always fondness and affection, often heat and flirtation. They found their comfort in collision and passion. At least that’s what Lou kept telling herself even as she placed delicate kisses down Debbie’s sternum, chasing the fingers slowly unbuttoning her blouse. Debbie liked to be fucked, to feel so much that her brain stopped trying to keep up, at least that’s what she told Lou. But this wasn’t the first time she’d slowed their pace, pulled Lou close and kissed her long and languidly and…lovingly? Sometimes Lou wondered.

Debbie’s hands ran over her back, around her hips, up her thighs. She mapped Lou’s body as if she had told herself to memorize it. Lou could only watch, entranced, allowing her own hands to chart similar patterns. By the time Debbie’s hands dipped lower, Lou was pliant and ready, more prepared than she had ever been to peel apart her soul layer by layer for the woman before her. And Debbie trembled under her fingers, too. Their breaths came in matching gasps torn from lungs that breathed mere inches from one another, separated just by skin and bone and blood. Lou kept her eyes open, blue eyes staring into deep brown. She was Debbie’s, and Debbie was hers. Lou kissed away the single tear that trailed down Debbie’s cheek when her eyes fluttered closed at last, and she held her through the stillness of the night amid a lullaby of traffic that never slept.

 

**Winter 2008**

“Hey, Honey! I’m –” But Lou didn’t finish the joke. It wasn’t very funny anyway, because this wasn’t “home.” This was a crummy hotel in Greenwich Village where they’d moved when they could no longer afford rent on the tiny studio apartment. Lou had offered to sell her bike, but Debbie had talked her out of it.   

The turntable in the corner – one of the only things that really, truly belonged to them – was turned up so loud Lou could’ve sworn the cheap panes in the windows were shaking. It was a miracle really that the old vinyl still played. Debbie had stolen it from a music store in Brooklyn long before they’d met: the Bach _Toccata and Fugue in D Minor_ played on the Notre-Dame organ by some early-twentieth century composer who had died right there at the keyboards during a recital a few years after the date on the record. Lou hated the recording, and she wasn’t even sure if Debbie actually _liked_ it. It was a pure and simple reflection of the darkest side of Debbie’s soul – relatable and terrifying in equal measure. Today – as Lou had expected the moment she heard the blare of the organ – Debbie was lying in the middle of the floor, gazing at nothing with the record jacket clutched to her chest. Her mouth moved soundlessly, and countless pieces of crumpled paper lay scattered around her on the ugly, paisley carpet. Lou saw the words “1. green ladder” on the corner of one in Debbie’s curly handwriting, the start of some plan that had flickered and died. Lou picked up another piece and saw “6. Reichenbach” amidst several entirely illegible scribbles.

“Reichenbach? Really?” Lou said, kneeling down next to Debbie as the record spun itself to silence and intermittent clicking.

Debbie’s eyes slowly focused on Lou’s face, and Lou saw her chest move slowly as she exhaled.

“Are you going to fake your own death?” Lou asked. She was only half-kidding. Debbie’s schemes had become increasingly desperate over the past few months, and it wasn’t helping that Danny was thousands of miles away, still riding the waves of the previous year’s success. It would have been easy to blame him, but it wasn’t his fault. Lou knew that Debbie would never accept his help. “Are you?” Lou prompted when she received nothing but slightly parted lips from Debbie.

“Thought about it,” Debbie said at last, her voice even. “It worked for Sherlock Holmes.”

Lou rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, as the John Watson in this relationship, I’d rather you didn’t.” She got up, moved across to the armchair by the window, and threw herself across it, not caring much about where her legs ended up.

“Lou.” Debbie turned her head slowly to look at Lou without budging from her spot on the floor.

Lou looked at her.

“I don’t know…” Debbie stopped and Lou saw her jaw working to form words that didn’t quite go together yet. Lou waited her out. The tension in Debbie’s face told her that – at the very least – whatever was coming would be genuine. “I don’t know who I am without the jobs,” Debbie said finally.

Lou considered her words but stayed silent. Letting her eyes travel over Debbie, over the crumpled pieces of paper, over the tattered copy of _Sherlock Holmes_ lying on the bed.

“I need to do something big, even if it’s just figuring out Coney Island in the Spring. Something. But I can’t…”

“You’re thinking about Danny,” Lou stated. It wasn’t a question.

Debbie’s jaw tightened, which was as good as a nod to Lou.

“You want to one-up him or impress him or – I don’t know – make sure everyone knows that _you’re_ the Ocean to watch,” Lou said with a vague gesture towards the postcard from Danny that lay on Debbie’s bedside table. “But Debbie, jobs don’t always work if you try to do too many things at once. Just run a job, Debs. Any job. And I’ll be there, right there, I promise. But if you try to kill too many birds with one stone...well, sometimes the stone is going to bounce back and hit you right in the face.”

“You think I can’t do better than him?” Debbie said. Lou knew she didn’t mean it, but the words stung nonetheless.

“No,” Lou replied shortly, pulling herself out of the chair again and going to stand over Debbie with her hand outstretched towards her. “I think you’ve _always been_ better than him, _smarter_ than him.”

Debbie’s eyes narrowed as though trying to find a hint of a lie in Lou’s face. After a moment, she took Lou’s hand, and Lou pulled her to her feet. She couldn’t resist wrapping Debbie in her arms for a moment, trying to convince her that she really meant what she said. Because Debbie _was_ the best; Lou had seen it the very first time they worked together. But the truth was, it didn’t matter either way. Even if Debbie was mediocre, Lou would still have her back.

“Look,” Lou said, when they were both seated at the table next to the kitchenette, “we have enough money to get a small flat again. If we can make a few thousand a week for the rest of the winter, you might be able to work something out that will at least let you put that record away for a while.” Lou gestured vaguely towards the turn table.

Debbie smiled slightly sheepishly. “And you?” she asked.

“Me,” Lou said, looking at Debbie.

“Oh, come on, Lou! It’s not hard to see that you want to get out of here.”

Lou was silent as she mulled over the words that had been going through her mind for months, ever since their casino plan had gone so horribly wrong back in October.

“Well?” Debbie prompted. Her voice wasn’t angry or indignant. It was sad, and that made everything much harder somehow.

Lou took a deep breath. “I would ask you to come with me, but we both know you don’t want that.”

Debbie shook her head. Lou knew she couldn’t give up the jobs. Not yet.

“I have to figure out some shit,” Lou said, reaching across the table to take Debbie’s hand, running her fingers over her palm and wondering how many more times she would feel these fingers beneath hers, how many more times they would dig into her hips when Lou kissed the spot where Debbie’s neck met her shoulder.

Debbie’s eyes asked questions that Lou knew would never come out of her mouth, but she deserved the answers anyway.

“I want to travel,” Lou said. “I want to see what it’s like to live – well, maybe not _honestly_ – but without having to rely on takes to survive. The last nine years have been…” It was hard to find the words even though she’d thought about them for so long. “…like a dream I never knew I had.”

The corner of Debbie’s mouth twitched, and she squeezed Lou’s fingers.

“But there’s still so much out there,” Lou continued.  

“Do you still want to buy a club?” Debbie asked, tilting her head slightly.

Lou shrugged. “Maybe.” The idea still made her heart leap in her chest.  

“Here in New York?”

“Yeah, I think so, but I have to get out of the city for a while.” They sat in silence, and Lou resumed her delicate tracing of Debbie’s warm palm.

“When?” Debbie asked finally, so quiet that Lou almost missed the question.

“I’m not sure,” Lou said, “but not before spring. I can help you with some simple jobs: bingo, roulette, poker – whatever we can find. And…”

Lou looked Debbie in the eye and saw uncertainty reflected back at her, the hint of a final question that she wouldn’t bring herself to ask.

“I’ll come back, Debs,” Lou said finally. “I will. And if you ever need anything, I’ll come back right away. Even if it’s just to pick you up off the floor.”

Debbie managed a half-smile, and Lou was surprised to see that her eyes were wet with unshed tears. Lou looked down at their entwined hands, pretending she hadn’t noticed and giving Debbie time to blink a few times and run the fingers of her other hand under her lashes. When she looked up again, Lou was surprised to see the tears were still there. For the first time, Debbie hadn’t bothered to hide them.

“Debbie,” she said quietly, but she didn’t know what Debbie needed to hear.

“It’s okay, Lou,” Debbie said with another squeeze of her hand. “But working with you, baby…” She cleared her throat and shook her head slightly as if to clear that, too. “Working with you…well…I liked it.” Lou remembered their conversation years ago and their first kiss that sealed their partnership.

She grinned and leaned across the table so Debbie would feel the words against her skin. “I liked it, too, honey.”

**Spring 2008**

“Tomorrow?” Debbie asked.

“Tomorrow,” Lou replied. Her bike was packed. Most of her possessions – everything Debbie didn’t want to keep in their new-but-tiny Brooklyn apartment – had been put in storage. The crappy Toyota that she barely drove was in a garage a block away. Debbie said she might use it, and Lou was leaving her the keys.

“It’s technically my turn, but I think you should order tonight,” Debbie said, tossing a take-out menu from their usual Chinese restaurant across the counter towards Lou.

“You sure you don’t want to go out?” Lou asked as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and flipped it open.

“Do _you_?” Debbie asked with a raised eyebrow.

Lou let her eyes travel over Debbie who was draped in a floral silk robe and nothing else. Her mouth went slightly dry, and she shook her head, feeling heat creep into her cheeks.

“Didn’t think so.” Debbie’s smirk was positively sinful.

Lou dialed the number for the restaurant and placed their usual orders. Debbie pulled a bottle of red wine from the cupboard and opened it, pouring them each a glass. Once she’d placed the order, Lou set the phone down on the table and took her wine from Debbie. She brought Debbie’s now free left hand to her mouth and brushed her lips over Debbie’s knuckles without breaking eye contact. Debbie moved closer, pressing her body flush against Lou’s and backing her into the refrigerator. Lou clinked her glass against Debbie’s and took a sip. Her blood was singing as Debbie’s lips moved along her jaw, not quite touching.

“I like your perfume,” Debbie murmured before resting her lips for far too brief a moment against Lou’s pulse point.

“You stole it for me,” Lou muttered through a gasp as Debbie placed another kiss right under her left ear.

“I know.”

And then Debbie’s mouth was on hers, insistent and greedy. Her teeth tugged at Lou’s lower lip, and Lou couldn’t even hear the sound that escaped from her throat. The pounding of her heart drowned out everything. Debbie tugged her wine glass from her hand and placed it alongside her own on the counter, her lips never leaving Lou’s mouth. Lou dug her fingers into Debbie’s hip with one hand as she cradled that back of her head with the other. Debbie’s hands were everywhere, lifting Lou’s shirt to press against bare skin, trailing along her waist band. Debbie paused, her fingers toying with the button of Lou’s tight leather pants, and pulled out of their kiss for a moment to look into Lou’s eyes.

“ _Yes_ , God, keep going.” Lou lifted her own hand to speed up the process, but Debbie caught it and held it above Lou’s head. Lou gasped against Debbie’s mouth; the hand around her wrist made everything more vivid. She traced the fingers of her other hand down Debbie’s side before letting her arm fall, clutching vainly at the smooth surface of the refrigerator door. Debbie hummed with approval at Lou’s surrender of control. Everything swirled in technicolor spirals around Lou as Debbie pushed her pants and underwear over her hips and slid two fingers inside her. Lou was very dimly aware of the sound of her head colliding with the refrigerator, but she was far too concentrated on Debbie to care. She couldn’t have imagined that it would feel this good to give up all of her control to Debbie, but today was special and sad and important; it felt right. It was too much and not enough all at once, and she hadn’t really let herself consider that leaving New York meant losing _this_. Debbie really _was_ staying behind. The world fell away around Lou, and all that was left was Debbie’s lips on hers and Debbie’s hands holding her up.

“Hey, baby, _Lou_ , are you okay?” Debbie’s voice cut through the fog in Lou’s brain.

Lou came back to herself and realized she’d buried her head in Debbie’s shoulder. There was moisture around her eyes and a smear of mascara on Debbie’s skin. She hadn’t realized she was crying. She pulled away just enough to see Debbie’s face. Her eyes looked worried.

“Yeah, Debs,” Lou said quietly. Her voice felt raw, and she cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m okay. That was…something else.”

“Good?”

“ _So_ good, honey.”

Debbie smiled and tugged Lou’s clothing back into place. Lou noticed her hands were shaking slightly. Debbie wasn’t comfortable with emotions; she didn’t have words for them a lot of the time, so Lou had learned to be alert for the tiny changes in Debbie’s demeanor that reflected her heart. Nothing was clear today, and Lou knew better than to think they would talk about it, but maybe some time and distance would do them good. Maybe ending this nine-year dance around one another – with one another – would allow them to start something new down the road. This couldn’t be the end. It couldn’t. Debbie ran her thumbs across Lou’s cheeks, wiping away tear tracks that Lou knew would appear again later. She wasn’t sure why she’d bothered with make-up today in the first place. Debbie was watching her with an odd expression on her face. It was almost wistful.

Lou raised an eyebrow at her, a silent question.

“You…” Debbie trailed off. She knit her brow with concern. “I…” She started again and squeezed her eyes shut as if willing the words to come out.

Lou waited. The silence stretched between them as the muscles in Debbie’s jaw worked over words that she couldn’t quite articulate. There was silence in the apartment except for the hum of the refrigerator and the even breaths that Lou was forcing herself to take.

Debbie pressed the heel of her hand into her forehead and opened her mouth for the third time.

Lou held her breath.

She jumped as the doorbell rang, and Debbie’s eyes sprang open. Lou sighed and went to pay for their take-out, and by the time she returned to the table, Debbie’s face had relaxed back into the impassive expression she always wore. The moment had passed, and whatever Debbie had been trying to say, Lou knew it might take her another nine years to work up the courage to say it.

 

**

 

Debbie lay on the bed before her, the floral robe spread out beneath her. Moonlight filtered through the grimy windows and reflected off Debbie’s skin, and Lou knew she’d never seen anything this beautiful. She circled her tongue around a place on the inside of Debbie’s knee that always elicited a shiver and a moan. Debbie’s hand inched down to clutch at Lou’s fingers where they lay against her hip. She tugged her hand, and Lou looked up from Debbie’s thigh to catch a hard look in Debbie’s eyes.

“Baby,” Debbie said, her voice surprisingly steady despite the way her muscles quivered under Lou’s touch.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Don’t let this be the last time.”

A lump rose in Lou’s throat. “I won’t, Debbie,” she said, and her voice broke. “I won’t.” She placed kisses up Debbie’s thigh, murmuring words against Debbie’s skin that she knew they’d both remember. “Beautiful. Perfect. Mine.”

Debbie’s hand tangled in her hair as Lou finally ran her tongue through the salty wetness between Debbie’s legs. She knew how to make Debbie squirm, how to bring her to the very edge and pull her back again. Lou drew out every movement, knowing deep down that she held something much more precious than Debbie’s body in her hands. She held her soul, and perhaps her heart. It was too late for the present and too soon for the future, but nothing was hopeless. The possibilities stretched before them, even if – for now – it all lay just out of reach. Lou heard her own name on Debbie’s lips as her back arched off the bed. She kept up the steady rhythm of her tongue until she felt a gentle tug on the top of her head. Kissing her way back up Debbie’s torso, she didn’t hide the tears that had once more sprung into her eyes. Debbie curled into her arms, and Lou held her so tightly that it probably hurt. Debbie didn’t complain.

“You know it isn’t about you, right Debs?” Lou whispered after uncounted minutes of stillness. “I have to get out of here for a while, but it’s not because—”  

“I know.” Debbie turned over so they were face to face, her eyes bright even in the darkness. “Baby, I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a recording of the Bach Toccata and Fugue in D Minor on the organ of Notre-Dame (mentioned in the second part of this chapter): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmMPKYkvTMA. It's EPIC. I also wrote this chapter while Notre-Dame was on fire, and I don't really know if I want to unpack that, but I was pretty concerned about the organ, and I'm v glad it survived. 
> 
> The composer I allude to in this chapter is Louis Vierne, who really and truly actually died while giving a recital at Notre-Dame in 1937. It's a WILD story: "Vierne suffered either a stroke or a heart attack (eyewitness reports differ) while giving his 1750th organ recital at Notre-Dame de Paris on the evening of 2 June 1937. He had completed the main concert, which members of the audience said showed him at his full powers ("as well as he has ever played"). Directly after he had finished playing his "Stele pour un enfant défunt" from his 'Triptyque' Op 58, the closing section was to be two improvisations on submitted themes. He read the first theme in Braille, then selected the stops he would use for the improvisation. He suddenly pitched forward, and fell off the bench as his foot hit the low "E" pedal of the organ. He lost consciousness as the single note echoed throughout the church. He had thus fulfilled his oft-stated lifelong dream — to die at the console of the great organ of Notre-Dame. Maurice Duruflé, another major French organist and composer, was at his side at the time of his death." (Wikipedia - and yes, the source checks out)
> 
> I don't think Vierne ever actually recorded the Toccata at Notre-Dame, but the image was too good to go to waste. Debbie has a dark side, and since the Toccata and Fugue is actually used in the Ocean's 8 soundtrack, I just can't ever resist including it. 
> 
> Similarly, I can't resist including Sherlock Holmes references because Debbie just *fits* the Holmes persona/archetype. I reference Reichenbach here, which is where Holmes dies (but then - surprise - he's not dead).


	3. Lento - The Death of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets a little dark, y'all. I promise it will get better, though. There're some fairly mild references to alcohol abuse in this chapter, so if that's triggering for you, I would recommend skipping the section with the Autumn 2014 heading.

**Summer 2012**

_That went well_ , Lou thought as she slid a cigarette from her pocket and lit it, watching the smoke catch the wind. The night was warm, and the balcony overlooking Lake Michigan had a beautiful view of Chicago’s lights in the distance. She could almost hear the sound of the cash trickling into her bank account as she stood there. The wealthy, right-wing CEO who owned this house would have no idea what hit him when he looked at his accounts on his red-eye flight home from Los Angeles tomorrow morning. On the other hand, the CEO’s daughter would never forget the mysterious, leather-clad Australian woman who had answered her plea to fuck up her father’s life, and who had then been more than willing to fuck her into the mattress until she fell asleep prouder and more sated than she’d ever been in her life. At least, that’s what she’d told Lou as she drifted off. Lou smirked as she looked out over the water, a familiar and comfortable feeling of restlessness stirring in her chest. _Time to go home_.

As if the universe had read her mind, Lou’s phone buzzed, and a New York City area code appeared on the screen. She didn’t recognize the number, but not many people had hers, so she answered without a second thought.

“Yeah?” she said, raising her cigarette to her lips once more.

“Lou.”

The cigarette was forgotten as the sound of that voice hit Lou’s ears.

“ _Lou_?” Debbie said again, more urgently.  

“Debbie,” Lou said, pulling herself together enough to answer, “Hang on.” She flicked the remainder of her cigarette over the railing and slipped back into the house. She moved as quietly as a shadow past the end of the bed where the young woman was sleeping and pulled her leather jacket from a chair in the corner. Barely ten seconds later, she was out on the street, walking briskly without a backward glance.

“What’s up, Deb?” she asked.

“I need you to listen to me, baby,” Debbie’s voice sounded uncharacteristically nervous. The pet name closed like a fist around Lou’s heart.  

“Yeah, yeah of course.”

“I got caught.”

Lou stopped walking. Her mind had gone blank. Debbie Ocean never got caught.

“Lou?”

“You _what,_ Debbie?” She couldn’t keep a note of fear out of her voice.

“I was framed. I got caught. I…I need you to help Danny pack up my stuff. I don’t care if you burn it or—”

“Wait, hang on,” Lou interrupted, “what the _fuck_ happened?”

“Look, they’re not gonna give me a lot of time with this phone. I’m being sentenced tomorrow, and I think I’m going to be inside for a while.” Debbie’s voice trembled ever so slightly, and Lou looked desperately for somewhere to sit down. She stumbled towards a bench by the water.

“Honey—”

“Let’s just say, it was one hell of a rebound, and when I get out of here…” Debbie trailed off, and Lou could almost see the muscles working in Debbie’s jaw.

“Tell me,” Lou said simply and firmly. This was no time for Debbie to chicken out.

“I want you back.” It was unnerving how matter-of-fact Debbie’s voice sounded as she said the words.

Lou sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Anyway, please help Danny with my stuff because I think he’s pretty pissed. It’s all at our old place in Brooklyn. And…” Debbie paused for so long that Lou almost thought the line had gone dead. “…And I’ll been in touch. I promise.”

Lou nodded even though Debbie couldn’t see her and tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry, Debs.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Debbie, I—” But there was a beep on the other end of the line that told Lou they’d been cut off. She wasn’t sure if she would’ve been able to say the words anyway. Perhaps it was better to let them hang in the air, unspoken and untarnished.

“ _FUCK_!” Lou fell forward onto her knees on the rocky shore, her head in her hands and the tears falling freely now. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

 _Then how_ was _it supposed to go?_ a voice in her head mocked.

Lou didn’t have answers, but she knew it wouldn’t involve the woman half her age whose bed she’d become all too familiar with a few hours ago, or the nameless motherfucker who had managed to frame Debbie Ocean.

Lou wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, curled into herself on a rocky beach in Evanston, Illinois, but by the time she pulled herself together, there was already a faint pinkish light peeping up over the horizon. She could be in New York by this evening if she only stopped for gas. The fear was dissipating, replaced by cold anger that made her blood run like ice. She shivered in the warm summer air.

Unbidden into her mind came an image of Debbie’s face on their last night together, her lips parting slightly to whisper words to the night: _Lou, don't let this be the last time._ Lou hugged her arms around herself as she stood up from the rocks, noticing the pain in her knees for the first time. She dug her fingernails into her skin, willing the physical discomfort to overtake her thoughts. But it couldn’t. Nothing could erase the image in her mind – still the most beautiful sight Lou had ever seen.

Her bike was parked in a Northwestern University garage a few blocks South. She knew the backroads to get out of Chicago, skip the rush hour traffic, and make her way onto I-90. The hot June sun beat down on her back and dazzled her eyes, but it felt good to sweat, and the pounding in her temples reminded her to keep her eyes on the road. The miles clicked by as quickly as they had four years ago when she’d driven this route in reverse. She had sped westwards to find out who she was on her own again, to make sure that she hadn’t become a mere extension of Debbie – a phantom that would disappear if she got too far away. She hadn’t disappeared, and life had gone on. She had allowed herself to _miss_ Debbie, which felt right. But that was over now, she knew who she was and what she was good at. She knew what and _who_ she needed. But now…Frustration rose like bile in her throat. Wasn’t she old enough to have learned that life wasn’t fair? _Apparently not_.

The summer days were long, and the sky was still light by the time she reached Brooklyn in the evening, noticing new shops and cleaner sidewalks. She remembered reading an article not too long ago about the gentrification here, but she hadn’t expected it to be so dramatic. It made everything feel cold despite the heat of the summer. Lou wove between chatting pedestrians as she walked towards their old apartment. Didn’t these people realize that New York wasn’t _really_ New York without graffiti covered doorframes and Debbie Ocean hiding in the shadows?

Juxtaposed to the unfamiliar streets, the old apartment felt like a time capsule. It was too similar, too close. Debbie hadn’t moved the furniture. The fridge hummed quietly in the corner, and Lou tried hard not to remember its cold surface against her skin and Debbie’s hot breath on her neck. The turntable still sat under the window in the living room with a stack of Debbie’s records next to it. Maria Callas’s recording of Rossini’s _Il barbiere di Siviglia_ lay under the needle. _So, she was happy_ , Lou thought with a sad smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, thinking about the time Debbie had spent an hour explaining each second of one of the arias, gushing over the way Callas shaped each and every word to achieve perfection. Lou picked up the record and slid it carefully into its sleeve.

She turned back to the room, still unnerved by how little it had changed since she had last stood here four years ago. The tattered copy of _Sherlock Holmes_ sat on the coffee table with the five-year-old postcard from Danny sticking out of the top. The TV was dusty; Debbie never used it much. Lou walked to the bedroom and took in the sight of rumpled sheets and Debbie’s floral robe thrown haphazardly across the end of the bed. The silk felt smooth as water as Lou let it flow through her hands. She brought the fabric to her nose and smelled the softest hint of Debbie’s perfume – the same kind she had always worn. Sure enough, a half-empty bottle sat on the dresser next to Debbie’s make-up and hairbrush. The watch Debbie had stolen from Danny wasn’t there, and Lou expected she’d been wearing it when she was arrested. She wasn’t sure when that was, but it couldn’t have been very long. There wasn’t much dust on the bathroom counter when Lou peeked in the door, and Debbie’s scent hadn’t dissipated from the pillow on the bed. Lou couldn’t help but bury her face in it, beyond caring whether her mascara-mixed tears would stain the fabric.

Lou returned to the kitchen and found spoiled milk and some beer in the refrigerator. She hoped there was something stronger in the cabinet. Sure enough, she found a choice of bourbon or vodka hidden behind stacks of mismatched shot glasses. She chose the vodka because it was sharp and clear, and that was exactly what her life wasn’t right now. She drank from the bottle and felt it burn down her throat, duller each time, until the room spun and she staggered back into the bedroom to collapse fully-clothed into Debbie’s scent.

“I love you,” Lou muttered – or at least she thought she did – into the pillow. The words she’d neglected to say on the phone until it was too late spilled out of her now into the quiet room. “I’m an idiot, and I _fucking_ love you.”

 

**

 

“She got six years, Lou,” Danny said over the phone the next day. “She’s got a chance for parole though, so she could be out in five.”  

Lou stayed silent, but she knew he could hear her unsteady breathing. There was no use denying her feelings anymore. His cautiously hopeful tone meant nothing to her.  

“Take care of yourself.”

Lou hung up before he could say anything else. Time ebbed and flowed around her.

Time died.

 

**Autumn 2014**

Most days, Lou drank just to prevent the dreams. She conned her way through the bars of Brooklyn, staying just sober enough to sneak some wallets out of the pockets of yuppy hipsters and tourists. She paid her rent and kept to herself, stumbling home to drink and smoke and collapse, hoping that Debbie would stay out of her head. Sometimes she spent the night in other women’s beds, but she always left before they woke up, and she never gave her real name. She gave them what they asked for and took nothing for herself. If they were lucky, they might catch a glimpse of a nipple or a smile. There was something cathartic about turning someone’s world upside down with her own feet firmly planted on the ground. Lou tried to avoid women who looked like Debbie because that seemed to invite the dreams, but sometimes the visions came anyway, leaking through the cracks in the walls she’d built.

The dreams about Debbie were happy. There was sunlight, there were flowers, and there was blue sky despite the dampening November weather of the real world. Sometimes Debbie was seductive and sexy, and Lou could almost feel her hands trailing up her thighs. Sometimes it was Debbie in the midst of a job, glorious and smart and content. She was always kind, and she always smiled. Every time she woke up, Lou’s heart broke anew. On the best days, Lou knew that every day brought her closer to the hour that Debbie would be released. The passage of the years was elusive and vague, not real enough for hope, but it was _something_. On the worst days…well, Lou didn’t remember the worst days. She made a point not to.

She stayed in the Brooklyn apartment because she couldn’t afford anywhere else, and the months ticked by beyond Lou’s comprehension. Her clothes hung loosely off her frame: too much booze, too little food. Deep down, Lou knew she wouldn’t make it another four years like this, but she didn’t know how to snap out of it anymore. Patterns had turned into habits; habits had turned into routines. She remembered what Coney Island had looked like two years ago after the hurricane, imagined broken roller coasters drowning in the tide. That was her life.

 

**Spring 2015**

“Lou?”

Lou looked up from her pint of beer, trying to focus on the woman in front of her, whose face swam in and out of focus.

“Jesus _Christ_.” The woman’s face solidified in front of her as she sat down in the booth across from her.

“Hey, Tammy. And yeah, I’m still here.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Lou shrugged. Her knee bounced restlessly, knocking the edge of the table.

Tammy shook her head. “What the _fuck_ are you doing to yourself?”

Lou exhaled sharply. “Surviving?” She squinted at Tammy, trying to keep her in focus.

“Is that what this is?” Tammy asked with a humorless laugh.  

Lou shrugged again.

“God, Lou, even Debbie did better than this.” Tammy leaned her elbows on the table.

Lou shot her a quizzical look but said nothing.  

“When you left?”

“Oh.”

“She was a mess, but she got through it. I mean, she listened to a lot of pretty fucked up operas for a while.”

Lou felt her mouth twitch into a momentary smile in spite of herself. She chugged half her beer in one go. Wistfulness just led to bitterness.

“Have you seen her?” Tammy prompted.

“Who?” Lou played dumb and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“The fucking _Queen,_ Lou,” Tammy retorted, clearly unimpressed by Lou’s forced apathy, “Jesus, who do you think? _Debbie_. Have you seen Debbie?”

“No.”

“You should,” Tammy said softly. “It would make you feel better.”

“I’m fine, Tammy.”

“No, Lou. You’re not fine. Do you know why I came here today?”

Lou shook her head. Why should she care why Tammy had wandered into this grimy Brooklyn bar?

Tammy glared at Lou for a few seconds. Lou could tell she was debating whether or not to just walk out now and leave Lou to her misery and her booze. “My husband’s in real estate,” Tammy said finally through a sigh, “He got word of a place that’s selling not too far from here – a club. You always talked about getting a club one day, so I thought maybe you’d want it.”

Lou looked up, trying to see the trick in Tammy’s eyes, the lie. No one in their right mind would offer a business opportunity to someone whose life mostly consisted of pickpocketing and self-medication.

Her confusion must have shown on her face because Tammy looked satisfied at her expression and nodded. “I mean, I didn’t know you were in this state, but if you clean up your act, I can pull the right strings and get you the place.”

Lou was silent. She tried to mull over the idea of the club, but something else Tammy had said was pressing on her mind. “Have _you_ seen Debbie?” she asked at last.

Tammy reached across the table and patted her hand.

“Have you?” Lou prompted sharply.

“Yeah, I have. I go to see her every six weeks or so. Brought her some books after she got out of solitary. Lou, she’s—” Tammy broke off and looked around to make sure no one was listening. The bar was mostly empty, save for a few men watching the Mets game on the large television by the pool table. “She’s planning something,” Tammy finished in a whisper.

“She told you?” Lou raised her eyebrows.

“No, no. She just wanted to get me interested enough to help. I told her I’m _not_ interested, but she seems good, Lou. She’s okay.” Tammy’s hand was warm against Lou’s. It was comforting. She smiled slightly at the look on Lou’s face.

“You think I should go see her?” Lou asked after a few moments of contemplating the table.

“Yeah, Lou, I really do,” Tammy said earnestly. “I mean, not like _this_.” She gestured at Lou’s torn shirt and smudged makeup.

“When you go…” Lou trailed off and Tammy looked at her expectantly. She swallowed hard before starting again. “When you go…do they let you touch her?” The words felt heavy in her throat, and it took a lot of work to get them to come out.

Tammy shook her head sympathetically. “No.”

Lou closed her eyes at the word, even though it was what she had expected. She drank the rest of her beer without looking at Tammy. 

“But Lou,” Tammy said, “ _Lou_.”

Lou looked up at her reluctantly.

“It’s still _her_ , Lou. It’s _Debbie_. Your…well, I don’t really know what you two were, but any idiot can see that - whatever it was - it  _mattered_.”

The lump in Lou’s throat throbbed painfully at Tammy’s words. She picked at the skin around her thumbnail where it was already peeling away.

“Stop that!” Tammy slapped at her hands.

Lou stopped and looked up at her, momentarily surprised.

Tammy gave her a slightly abashed smile.  

“So, this club?” Lou asked, running a finger around her empty glass.  

“You think you can clean up your act?”

“I guess we’ll see.”

 

**

 

Lou hadn’t ever seen the inside of a prison before. It was something to be avoided by those in her profession. She didn’t like the cold cinder-block walls or the signs telling people what to do. The room for inmates to meet visitors was large and impersonal with ceilings that were too low and linoleum that was too old. She crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed where goosebumps had arisen in the dry, cool air that smelled of cleaning supplies. Her silk shirt rumpled slightly under her touch. She had made an effort with her look today, more of an effort than she’d made in a while. It was starting to feel good to look good again, which was saying something after three years of tangles and stains.

It felt like all the air was sucked out of the room when Debbie entered accompanied by a guard. Lou stood up, tried to smile and wave, and ended up feeling like an idiot. Debbie’s hair was longer. Her bangs had grown out to frame her face in brown waves. Lou ran her fingers through her own hair with a pang in her chest, wishing she could reach out and touch Debbie’s instead.

“You look good,” Debbie said as she sat down.

“I don’t think orange is really your color,” Lou quipped back as she sank back onto the hard bench, amazed at how normal it felt to talk to her after all these years. “But you’re not looking too bad, yourself. Your hair is nice like this.”

“It’s good to see you,” Debbie said with a small smile.

“I should’ve come sooner, Debs, I’m sorry.” Lou had to get the words out before she lost her nerve.

Debbie shrugged. “It’s okay. Time is weird in here.”

“I bet.” Lou nodded sympathetically.  

“How are you?” Debbie sounded tentative.

“I’m good…well, I’m good _now_ , anyway. It was—”

“Tammy told me,” Debbie interrupted.

Lou was glad she didn’t have to tell her. “Anyway,” she said after they’d looked at each other for a minute, “Tammy found me a club. You should see it, Debbie. It’s—”

“Everything you ever wanted?” Debbie said with a smile and a tilt of her head.

Lou shrugged and smiled. “It’s not the _only_ thing I want, but it’s something, honey.”

“I’m proud of you, baby.”

“Thanks.” They lapsed into silence. Lou was aware that they had limited time, but she couldn’t help just basking in Debbie’s presence again. So much of the essence of _them_ was beyond words.

“Less than three years, Lou,” Debbie said quietly.

Lou nodded and smiled, though her eyes felt wet. It was amazing how three years could feel like forever.

“And I’m going to need a favor.” She looked over at the guard who had followed her in, as if asking permission. It turned Lou’s stomach to see Debbie ask permission for anything, but she bit her lip and allowed the moment to pass. The guard nodded, and Debbie slid a small piece of prison stationary across the table. Lou took it, careful not to brush even the tips of Debbie’s fingers, and slipped it into her pocket without glancing at it.

“Five more minutes,” said the guard in the corner. Lou glared at him. Debbie sighed.

Lou swallowed around the lump that had returned to her throat. “Debbie,” she said. Her voice was low and rough. “Debbie, I made you a promise.”

Debbie tilted her head.

“I told you that night that it wouldn’t be the last time, _our_ last time.”

Debbie’s eyes widened slightly as she understood Lou’s meaning. She nodded.

“It still won’t be.”

Debbie looked down at her own hands twisting in her lap and then back up at Lou with a watery smile. “You mean it, baby?”

“One hundred percent.” Lou winked at her.

The guard stepped forward towards the table. “Hey, your time’s up,” he said.

Debbie stood up and looked at him. “Can I hug her?” She asked. “Please?”

“It’s against the policy.”

“Look, sir, she’s _dying_. I mean…” Debbie wiped at her eyes and let out a convincing sniff. “I _might_ see her when I get out, but we don’t really know. They didn’t give her a lot of time, and I just found out last week.” Her voice trembled, and she held the side of her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t even ask, but if it’s the last time…Sir, we’ve been friends for _sixteen years_.”  

“Um…” The guard looked confusedly at Lou and then back to Debbie.

Standing up, Lou wiped a look of surprise from her face and replaced it with embarrassed, wistful sadness. Debbie managed to squeeze a few actual tears from her eyes, and Lou fought the desire to grin.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” the guard finally conceded. Then he turned to Lou and said, “Gee, ma’am, I’m…I’m really sorry.”

Lou sighed audibly, the picture of a stoic woman resigned to her early death.

The guard stepped back and looked nervously around the room; Lou could tell that he was feeling awkward about intruding on such a poignant moment. Debbie moved forward at the same moment as Lou, and they collided in a less-than-graceful embrace. Lou buried her face in Debbie’s neck, remembering the spot at the top of her shoulder that always made her squirm and resisting the urge to press her mouth to it and make a mark for Debbie to wear for a few days.

“You are so going to hell for that one,” Lou whispered in Debbie’s ear.

“I know.” Debbie squeezed Lou tighter. “But I missed your perfume.”

“I’ve been wearing yours.”

“I can tell.” Debbie took a deep breath, and Lou felt her exhale ruffle the hairs right behind her ear. “It’s nice.”

“I miss you, Jailbird,” she muttered against Debbie’s neck. Lou felt Debbie smile at the new nickname.  

“Miss you.”

Lou clung to Debbie for another few seconds, letting the tears that had festered at the corners of her eyes all day finally fall. It worked for the tale Debbie was spinning anyway, so what was the point in pretending this didn’t hurt? Debbie wiped a tear from Lou’s cheek as they finally pulled apart, and Lou placed a brief kiss on her jaw. She wanted to kiss her properly, but she knew if she did, she wouldn’t be able to stop. This was enough, for now. Tammy had been right. Lou felt lighter than she had since leaving Chicago. Debbie stepped back and nodded at the guard.

“Bye, baby,” Debbie murmured over her shoulder as the guard opened the door.

“Bye,” Lou said quietly, forcing a small smile onto her face.   

The guard eyed Lou with one last uncomfortable, pitying look as the door swung closed with a thud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a couple opera references in this one:
> 
> 1) Maria Callas's Il barbiere di siviglia. I'm specifically referencing her performance of "Una Voce Poco Fa." She really does manage to add an emotional context to every single word, and she's also really, really funny! Here's a video of her singing it in 1965: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kG0BIOgl-aQ. Here's a translation of the aria: http://www.aria-database.com/translations/barber02_una_1.txt. 
> 
> 2) Tammy alludes to Debbie listening to "some pretty fucked up operas." This is what I have in mind: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92jiitUEahg. 
> 
> ALSO I know I low-key Rose Tyler-ed Debbie, and it *hurt* me, but it just worked. Also, "time died" is definitely a RENT reference.


	4. Minuet and Trio - The Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is cathartic after the last chapter. 
> 
> Also, highly recommend rewatching the movie, because A) that's why we're all here in the first place <3, and B) the scenes in this chapter are almost all heist timeline, and C) I think we can all agree that Lou's *extremely camp* green jumpsuit was the only thing missing from the Met Gala last week ;) .

**Spring 2018**

March - The Button

Lou couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of Claude Becker’s button sitting beside the shiv on the poker table. Debbie smiled as she dug into her food, clearly pleased with Lou’s response. In fact, she was positively glowing. Lou had expected a scheme – Danny had told her it was _brilliant_ – but she hadn’t expected the shift in Debbie’s mood. _People change_ , she reminded herself. After all, it had been ten years since they last pulled a job together. It was as if someone had put Debbie into slow motion. Her movements had always been calculated and precise and elegant, but now they were subtle in a way that Lou had never seen before. Her style had shifted from something that tried to mimic Danny’s to something uniquely hers. She oozed self-control and self-importance even in the way she was dipping pot-stickers into sauce and transferring them to her mouth without letting so much as a drop fall onto her white jacket. Lou watched, mesmerized.

“Lou?”

“Yeah?” Lou shook herself slightly and realized she’d been staring at Debbie with her own chopsticks suspended half-way to her mouth. A piece of baby corn had fallen from them onto her plate many seconds ago, but she hadn’t noticed, far too enraptured by the tiny movements of Debbie’s hands and the way she sat in her chair. She lowered her gaze, blushing slightly, and picked up the piece of baby corn for a second time.

“Miss me?” Debbie drawled with a smirk.

“I did,” Lou said matter-of-factly, leaning back in her chair with her hands behind her head. The loose sleeves of her plaid robe fell around her elbows. She noticed Debbie’s eyes rake over her, taking in the necklaces splayed across her chest and the edge of her black lacy bra poking out from behind the fabric. The temperature in the room suddenly felt about ten degrees warmer. Debbie set down her chopsticks and pushed her chair back from the table. Lou watched as she walked around the table towards her. Her mouth had gone very dry all of a sudden, and she ran her tongue over her bottom lip. Debbie’s eyes followed the movement hungrily.  

“You said it wouldn’t be the last time,” Debbie whispered.

Lou turned her chair sideways and made to stand up.

“Stay,” Debbie said, with a gentle hand on Lou’s shoulder. She moved to stand with her legs on either side of Lou’s, gazing down at her.

“So…” Lou said. Her voice felt fuzzy.

“So,” Debbie repeated, running one finger along Lou’s jaw, “was it?”

“God, no,” Lou said. Her hands moved up to grip Debbie’s waist, and she tugged gently until Debbie sitting on her lap, straddling her hips. She ran her hands up and down Debbie’s back under her jacket. Debbie’s hands cradled the sides of Lou’s face, her thumbs stroking over her cheekbones.

“I want you,” Debbie said simply as her mouth found Lou’s.

How many times had she dreamed of this? Lou wondered. How many times had she awoken with a smile that turned to tears when she realized that Debbie’s release was still four years away, two years away, a week away? Time had passed so slowly that every second felt like forever, counting down the infinities until Debbie came home. Now she was here, Lou’s brain was finding it difficult to keep up. Debbie’s tongue ran along her upper lip, and Lou moaned into her mouth, hands pulling Debbie impossibly closer. Debbie’s dress had ridden up over her hips, and Lou could feel the heat of her arousal against her abdomen through the thin fabrics of her robe and Debbie’s underwear.

“Debbie, _Debbie_ , wait,” Lou stammered, pulling back for a second, but keeping a tight hold on Debbie’s hips.

“Baby?”

“We have all night.”

“It’s been ten fucking _years_ , Lou.”

Lou leaned her head against Debbie’s chest and laughed softly before placing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the bodice of Debbie’s dress over her sternum. Debbie buried her face in Lou’s hair and held her close, letting the heat between them smolder for a few moments. They breathed together.

“I want…” Lou began, her voice slightly muffled against Debbie. Speaking was difficult.

“What do you want, baby?” Debbie murmured, running her fingers through Lou’s hair.

“I want to take you upstairs.” Lou pulled back enough to look into Debbie’s eyes. “I can’t believe you’re back. I _need_ …” Her thoughts were disjointed, and she trailed off.   

Debbie gave a shaky sigh and twisted Lou’s bangs around her fingers. “I know, baby, I know. And you’re…here.”

“I’m here.”

Debbie smiled and leaned down to kiss her. It started slow, but the banked heat between them rose quickly into fire once more. As Lou felt Debbie’s teeth graze her lower lip, she couldn’t prevent a groan.

“Bed?” Debbie asked against Lou’s mouth.

“Bed.”

Lou couldn’t bring herself to let go of Debbie as they made their way upstairs, pulling her in for a kiss every few feet, sliding her jacket from her shoulders. As a result, it took them much longer than normal to ascend the metal staircase to the upper floor and make their way along the balcony to Lou’s room on the far side. When they finally reached the doorway, Lou felt suddenly nervous about Debbie’s presence in her room. It bore unmistakable signs of her rollercoaster life, signs which Debbie was sure to notice.

“I like it,” Debbie said, looking around as Lou straightened the rumpled bedspread and lit a few candles with the lighter from her bedside table.

Lou scoffed. “It’s a mess.”

“Feels…romantic,” Debbie said with a smile and a nod towards the candles.

Lou mirrored Debbie’s smile and flicked the lighter in her hand – it was a nervous habit she had developed while Debbie was in prison. The flame rose and died against her finger. She slid the lighter into the pocket of her robe as Debbie moved towards her over the threshold. Lou took her hand and led her to the bed, pulling Debbie onto her lap with her knees framing Lou’s hips. Their kiss was slower this time, luxurious. Debbie tasted like wine and smelled like the perfume she’d stolen for Lou. Her hands moved through Lou’s hair and over her shoulders, slipping under the fabric of her robe to tug at the edge of her black lace bra. Lou passed her hands up Debbie’s sides, tracing the cut-outs in her tight black dress. She felt goosebumps rise under her finger tips.

“Get this off,” Lou said. The words felt rough in her throat. She tugged at the zipper at Debbie’s back until the fabric hung loosely from Debbie’s shoulders, slipping down her arms.  

Debbie rose from Lou’s lap to stand in front of her. She pushed the dress down over her legs until it pooled on the floor. Her eyes never strayed from Lou’s face, watching her reaction. Lou swallowed hard as she took in the sight before her. Debbie wore a dark red bra and panty set that complemented the lighter brown streaks in her hair. Arousal was too simple a word for the sensation building in Lou. This was electric and explosive, but as her eyes traveled over Debbie’s body, she paused.

“This is new,” Lou said quietly, reaching out a finger to trace a twisted scar running along Debbie’s rib cage just under her left breast.

“It’s not new anymore,” Debbie said, almost tenderly. “It was almost five years ago.”

“Oh.” The reminder of just how long they’d been apart made Lou’s eyes sting with tears.

“I’m okay, baby. Really.” Debbie cupped the side of Lou’s face in her hand and ran a thumb along her cheekbone. Lou leaned into the touch, but she didn’t take her eyes from the scar, still tracing it with a fingertip.

“What…” Lou cleared her throat and started again. “What happened?” She looked up at Debbie’s face.  

Debbie shook her head with a small smile. “I’ll tell you, but not tonight. Let’s not spoil it.”

“You promise?”

“Of course.”

Lou placed the palm of her hand over the scar and moved her thumb over Debbie’s lace-covered breast. She heard a sharp intake of breath above her and felt Debbie’s hand squeeze her shoulder. She moved her hand slowly around Debbie’s side, following her bra until she reached the clasp.

“Yes, baby,” Debbie said before Lou had to ask.

Lou undid the clasp in one smooth movement, and Debbie shrugged the bra from her shoulders. She moved so that she was once again straddling Lou’s hips, and Lou felt another pang in her chest as she noticed a second scar running around the side of Debbie’s breast to join the first. She didn’t say anything this time, trusting Debbie’s promise that she would find out eventually. Instead, she leaned forward and moved her mouth along the knotted skin, using her teeth and her tongue to leave a smudge of dark red over the spot where the two scars met. Satisfied with her work, she switched her attention to Debbie’s nipple. She swirled her tongue in a gentle, insistent rhythm as the fingers of her left hand moved to Debbie’s right breast. Debbie’s hips ground against Lou’s stomach, and she was almost panting for breath, fingers scrabbling for purchase on Lou’s back as Lou licked over to her right breast. Lou held Debbie’s hips tightly between her hands, and Debbie groaned in frustration as her attempt to move was impeded by Lou’s grip.

“Someone’s eager,” Lou said through a smile, looking up at Debbie through her platinum bangs.

“Ten. _Fucking_. Years,” Debbie gasped back. Her eyes were nearly black from a combination of arousal and the dim candle light.

Lou tapped a hand against Debbie’s hip. “Get up,” she said firmly, “and take these off.” She tugged at the edge of Debbie’s underwear.

Debbie hurried to obey Lou’s request, letting her panties fall to the floor on top of her dress before crawling back onto the bed and lying down against the pillows. Lou kneeled between her legs feeling her own desire curl deep in her core. But she could wait; tonight was for Debbie. She tugged at the cord of her robe and let the fabric slide off her shoulders and onto the bed. Sliding her own fingers over the chains around her neck, Lou unclasped the fastening at the front of her bra and noticed Debbie’s lips part slightly in anticipation. Debbie’s tongue flicked out to moisten her lips as Lou let the bra slide off her shoulders. She had intended to keep her boxers on for the time being, but Debbie smirked and shook her head as Lou moved over her.  

“You’re still overdressed, baby,” Debbie admonished, slipping a finger under Lou’s waistband and tugging gently.  

Lou rolled her eyes, smiled, and pushed the boxers off her hips, shifting to get them over her knees. “Better?” she asked, once she’d thrown them to the floor.

“I’d hate to ruin those necklaces.” Debbie’s voice was mischievous and sing-song.

Lou fixed Debbie with a piercing stare and slowly removed each necklace, reveling in the way Debbie’s breath hitched each time she reached over to place one on the bedside table. As the last piece clattered onto the wood, she raised an eyebrow at Debbie, a silent question.

“Come here,” Debbie said breathlessly in answer.   

Lou shifted over her, elbows on either side of Debbie’s head, her hands threading through long brown hair. Lou’s breasts brushed against Debbie’s, and they both moaned. She took a moment to lick into Debbie’s mouth before trailing kisses down her throat and over her chest. She had teased Debbie enough, and now she was here, laid out beneath her. _Perfect. Beautiful._ She moved her mouth over Debbie’s stomach, feeling her muscles tense and quiver. She concentrated for a few moments on a spot she remembered on Debbie’s right hip and was pleased to find that somethings didn’t change, if Debbie’s shaky moan was any indication. Smiling against Debbie’s flushed skin, Lou moved lower, pausing only once to look up at Debbie’s face.

“I want to taste you,” Lou murmured, enjoying the way Debbie’s eyelids fluttered at the words.

“God, yes,” Debbie replied, almost cutting across the end of Lou’s sentence in the eagerness of her consent.

Lou considered going slow, thought about light flicks of her tongue and soft movements, but overwhelming evidence was suggesting that Debbie was too far gone for that, that she wanted to feel the absolute limits of sensation, that she would have been more than happy for Lou to fuck her hard and fast in the chair downstairs. The first taste of Debbie’s arousal broke Lou’s last desperate hold on control, and she abandoned herself to Debbie’s pleasure. Her tongue remembered what Debbie liked, though her brain was finding it difficult to catch up. Her eyes found Debbie’s face, wanting – _needing_ – to watch every second, to be reminded that Debbie was back where she belonged: in Lou’s arms, in Lou’s bed. _Ten years_ , Lou thought. _Ten fucking years._ She could feel Debbie trembling and realized she needed one last push.

“Let go, honey,” she whispered as she replaced her tongue with two fingers. “Let go. For me.”

“For you,” Debbie gasped, the words changing to a moan.

A second later, Lou felt her whole body stiffen, pulse, and relax. She slowed her movements gradually and waited for Debbie’s eyes to open. When they did, Lou moved gently up Debbie’s body to lie beside her.

“Hi, honey,” she whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind Debbie’s ear. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too, baby,” Debbie replied, planting a kiss on the palm of Lou’s hand. “Me too.”

“So,” Lou said after a few minutes of comfortably drowning in Debbie’s eyes, “what’s the job?”

Debbie grinned and spoke in a sleepy, sing-song voice. “Oh, baby, you just have to wait and see.”

 

**

 

April - The Bargain

“What the _fuck_ did you mean by that?”

Lou looked up from a pile of paperwork in the club’s office to see Debbie looking windswept and determined standing in the doorway. More than a month had passed since Debbie’s release. The preparations for the heist were well under way. Lou had tracked down the people Debbie asked her to find, and now her role was mostly to keep everyone fed and sheltered until the first Monday in May. The club needed some attention, but she hadn’t made much headway into the pile of bills and tax forms in front of her. Her mind was racing over Debbie’s dishonesty or fear or whatever it was that had led her to keep from Lou a most vital part of the scheme: framing Claude Becker. She should have known there was an asterisk, should have _known_ Debbie would have some ulterior motive. But she had thought – complacently perhaps – that Debbie would tell her, allow her to process the risks long before this.

“What part are you talking about, Debbie?” Lou asked. Her tone dripped sarcasm. “Because I think I was pretty clear.”

“What did you mean, ‘this is just like last time’?” Debbie sounded frustrated. Lou suspected she was angry at herself for having to ask, for not being able to read Lou like a book the way she read everyone else.  

“I told you before, Debbie. I told you ten _years_ ago. If you try to kill too many birds with one stone, the stone will bounce back and hit you in the face.” Anger was building again in the pit of Lou’s stomach. “I thought you’d learned that lesson, but apparently you haven’t. You _haven’t_. And I can’t watch it happen. It almost killed me last time, Debbie, just hearing about it. Do you know that? Do you _know_?”

Debbie looked stricken. “Lou, I—”

Lou groaned in frustration and turned away from Debbie, grateful that her desk chair could swivel to face the back wall. She glared at the cinder blocks. “It wasn’t your fault, and I don’t want your pity, Debbie. But I can’t…” She broke off and pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers, eyes squeezed shut.  

“I can’t lose you, either.” Debbie’s voice was so quiet that Lou could barely hear it, but it grew stronger as she went on. “God, Lou, that’s what this is all about. Haven’t you figured that out yet? Haven’t you realized that I wouldn’t have even done this job if you’d said no?” Debbie was almost yelling now.

Lou scoffed and spun her chair back to face Debbie.

“I’m serious, Lou.” Her voice was quiet again and hard as nails.

Lou looked at her, still seething. “Then why the _hell_ didn’t you tell me the whole plan. I asked you who Daphne Kluger’s date was a week ago, and you said you didn’t know. But you did. You’ve known for _years_ , Debbie.”

Debbie seemed to deflate under Lou’s gaze. She looked down at her shoes and buried her hands in her pockets, closing in on herself. Lou waited her out. She had said what she needed to say, laid all her cards on the table.

A whole minute ticked by before Debbie spoke, her eyes still on the floor. “I should have told you.”

“Damn right, you should have.”

Debbie looked up at her and took a few tentative steps towards the desk. “Did you mean what you said?”

Lou knitted her brow and said nothing. She knew what Debbie was asking, but the ache in her heart was begging Debbie to actually say the words, to cut the bullshit once and for all.

“Would you really walk?” Debbie asked finally. Her voice was almost as deep as Lou’s; it was costing her something to get the words out. “Would you…leave? Again?” Despite her anger, Lou found that she was calmed by Debbie’s words, by the fact that she’d finally found the nerve to just _ask_.

“You tell me, Debbie,” Lou said finally. The hot frustration was ebbing away, replaced by blank disappointment and sadness. “I’ll sit here, and I’ll listen to you. I owe you that much.”

“You don’t _owe_ me anything,” Debbie said bitterly. The candor in her tone was uncharacteristic; it took Lou aback.  

Lou swallowed hard. The lump that had resided in her throat ever since Debbie went to prison had returned. She hadn’t realized how good it had felt to be able to swallow normally over the past few weeks. The constant ache had mercifully vanished as Debbie slid back into her life. But now it was back: a persistent and inconvenient reminder of just how much she cared. She wondered if Debbie’s throat was also protesting the unnatural rift between them, an abyss filled with yet unspoken declarations.   

“I’ll listen, Debs,” Lou said again, now in a slightly choked voice. “Tell me everything. Tell me what really happened with…” She couldn’t say the name again. “… _him_. Tell me every detail of the plan down to the number of seconds it will take you, the number of steps – don’t look at me like that! – I know how you work. I’ve known you for _twenty years_ , Deborah.”

Debbie blinked at the sound of her full name. “Nineteen,” she corrected, as if unable to stop herself.  

Lou rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Do you have to do that?”

“Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s like you said. Me and numbers—”  

“I know.” Lou shook her head. “You’re _seriously_ irritating sometimes.”

“I know,” Debbie said. She smiled at Lou in a hesitant way, and moved a few more steps forward to sit in the chair across the desk from Lou.

Lou leaned forward and with her elbows propped on the table, hands together. She rested her chin on her knuckles. “So?” She prompted when Debbie remained silent.

“Okay,” Debbie said with a nod. “I’ll tell you.”

“I’m listening.”

 

**

 

May - The Bling

The green Armani jumpsuit was a real find on Tammy’s part, and Lou made a mental note to thank her as she slid into it, forgoing her usual stack of necklaces for the diamonds she’d collect shortly. She checked her watch and winked at herself in the mirror, satisfied with the look and feeling lighter than air at the thought of the crown jewels safely stored in the refrigerator downstairs. Her bike was parked near the catering truck in a garage not far from the loft, something they’d arranged so that Lou could do a last sweep of the surrounding area to check that no one had followed her there from the Met. Her leathers fit comfortably over the jumpsuit, Tammy had made sure of that as well. _What a waste_ , Lou thought, thinking of Tammy’s quiet, suburban life.

The ride back to the Met didn’t take long; she knew the best ways to weave around the usual traffic. It felt good to have the wind roaring in her ears and the feel of the bike rumbling beneath her. She could almost taste California, her reward if this all went off. And they were so close, _so close._ Lou parked the bike in a ramp on 79th Street, shoved her backpack with the leathers inside into the small seat compartment, and walked the few blocks back to the kitchen entrance of the museum. Each step was calculated to match the path Nine Ball had laid out, avoiding every camera until she stepped into the Gala itself. After that she was just another tall, blonde woman in sequins hiding in plain sight, easily overlooked. She scanned the exhibit hall as she entered, smiling in spite of herself as she caught a glimpse of the back of Debbie’s bewigged head on the other side of the room.

Right on cue, Constance slid past her, and Lou weighed the necklace in her hand. Amita had truly outdone herself, and a small part of her wished she could keep this piece for her collection, despite the fact that she found diamonds to be a bit old-fashioned for her taste. The jewels hung heavy between her breasts, a constant reminder of what they had achieved. _Were achieving_ , she corrected herself. It wasn’t over yet. Lou ordered a Diet Coke from the bar and sipped it slowly as she walked through the crown jewels exhibit, wondering if Debbie had planted the jewels on Claude yet. _Yes_ , she thought as she checked her watch. _Yes. It’s done._

It was time to leave. She strode out of the exhibit and joined the crowd milling towards the exit, setting her empty glass on a table by the stairs and popping a stick of mint gum into her mouth. She liked the way the bright green matched her jumpsuit. As they had planned, Lou was the last of the team down the stairs. As she reached the first landing, she could see Rose climbing awkwardly into a limo at the bottom, glancing anxiously towards the spot where Daphne Kluger was saying goodbye to…

Lou’s stomach clenched painfully, and her hands shook. She hated him with every fiber of her being. She hated his scruffy beard and the stupid sash that was his lame nod towards the “European Royalty” theme. She hated his stupid, posh accent and the way his hand ran over Daphne’s arm the same way it had probably run over Debbie’s. Lou’s stomach turned at the idea, but at the thought of Debbie, Lou pulled herself together and realized she’d been standing at least two seconds too long in the middle of the stairs. She averted her eyes from the sickening scene in front of her and made a sharp right when she reached the street, resisting the urge to run, because suddenly she needed Debbie more than she needed oxygen.

Lou saw Debbie before Debbie saw her. She was standing in the mild night air on the southeast corner of 80th Street and 5th Avenue, checking her watch and looking worried. Lou knew why. Her tiny hesitation on the stairs had held up their reunion by mere seconds, but Debbie’s plans succeeded on precision. Seconds could mean the difference between a life with Debbie and life in prison. Lou hated the flash of panic on Debbie’s face, hated the way she had allowed Claude Becker to get to her and make her late. She began phrasing an apologetic excuse in her mind, but she forgot all of it as she stepped out from behind the food truck to cross the street because Debbie’s eyes found hers, and suddenly that was all that mattered. She ran a hand down the necklace hanging from her throat, feeling Debbie’s gaze on her trailing fingers. With a smile that made Lou’s pulse race, Debbie turned and walked a few steps down 5th Avenue, waiting for Lou to catch up.

“What do you think?” Lou asked, running her fingers down Debbie’s arm and slipping her hand into hers.

“Lesbian David Bowie.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks.” Lou grinned, tugging at her fur lapel and snapping her gum. “You look stunning. Tammy really outdid herself.”

“She sure did. Did you see Nine Ball?”

“ _Oh_ , yes.”

Debbie smirked. Lou paused at the corner of 79th Street, and Debbie turned to look at her with a questioning glance. “Isn’t the bike down here?” Debbie asked, cocking her head to the left.

“Yeah,” Lou said, turning her head over her shoulder to look towards the entrance to Central Park on the other side of 5th Avenue and then back to Debbie. “But I thought we could…you know, take a walk.” Lou raised her eyebrows.

Debbie considered her and then moved a step closer to whisper in Lou’s ear. “If you get us arrested for public indecency, I will _personally_ make sure you don’t have an orgasm for _at least_ another ten years.”

Lou snorted with laughter and tugged at Debbie’s hand. “Come on,” she said, “I know a place.”

“That’s…intriguing,” Debbie said through a smirk.

“I knew you’d be interested.”

They wove in and out of the lights of street lamps, and Lou was grateful for the unseasonably warm weather on her partially exposed skin. She pulled Debbie after her down familiar paths, slipping into a clump of trees she’d found many years ago, long before she’d met Debbie. As soon as the path was out of sight, Debbie pushed her up against a tree, and Lou gasped in surprise. She supposed she should have known that Debbie wouldn’t relinquish control on the night of a job, certainly not before she removed her wig. Debbie’s fingers ran over the green sequins covering Lou’s breasts, rubbing hard over her nipples. The sensation of the heavy fabric moving against her was enough to make Lou moan. Debbie clapped a hand to Lou’s mouth and looked up at her, eyes shining with mischief and reflected starlight.

“Can you be quiet, baby?”

Lou nodded and placed a kiss on Debbie’s palm. Debbie withdrew her hand from Lou’s mouth and trailed her fingers down Lou’s chest along the line of the necklace. Her touch felt like fire even as goosebumps erupted on Lou’s skin. There were three buttons along the midriff of the jumpsuit, and Debbie popped them open one by one, seemingly fascinated by the way Lou’s eyelids fluttered each time. Her warm hands moved upwards to slide under the fabric just under her collarbones. She palmed Lou’s breasts and continued over her ribcage, sending a shiver of pleasure down Lou’s spine. Debbie’s left hand paused at Lou’s waist, but her right kept moving lower and lower. Lou gasped and lifted her own hand to her mouth as Debbie’s hand found its destination, now rubbing in firm circles that made Lou’s mind shift in and out of focus.

“You came prepared,” Debbie murmured, her own arousal apparent from the depth of her voice. Lou tried to smirk, proud of her choice to forgo underwear, but she found that she no longer had much control over her face as Debbie pushed two fingers slowly inside her. She parted her legs slightly, sliding her shoulders down the tree a few inches to give Debbie more access.

“More,” she whispered. Debbie added a third finger and increased her pace. Lou clutched Debbie to her and buried her face in her neck to muffle the sounds trying to break free from her throat. She found the spot at the join of Debbie’s shoulder that always made her squirm and bit down, feeling a slight pause in Debbie’s rhythm as she stifled her own moan in Lou’s hair. It wasn’t long before Lou felt her thighs beginning to tremble. Debbie tightened her hold around her waist, holding her firmly against the tree.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Debbie whispered, and Lou believed her, let herself collapse into Debbie as stars popped in front of her eyes. Debbie stroked her hair with her left hand, her right still buried in Lou’s warmth.

“You did it, honey,” Lou whispered into Debbie’s shoulder once she’d found her voice again.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, baby,” Debbie said, pulling her fingers out of Lou’s jumpsuit and licking them clean.

Lou watched every flick of her tongue with rapt attention until a light breeze stirred the trees around them, and she realized her buttons were still undone. Debbie reached out to run a finger once more along the Toussaint fragment hanging against Lou’s sternum while Lou redid her buttons.

“Amita really came through,” Debbie said with an admiring tone.

“Everyone did. You did really, _really_ good, Debs.” Lou reached out and gently pulled Debbie’s wig off her head, carefully undoing each pin until her hair hung loose around her shoulders once more. “Danny would be so proud of you,” Lou murmured as she ran her fingers through a few strands. Debbie nodded and swallowed. Lou reached out to take her hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing tightly.  

Debbie sighed and looked up at Lou with a smile. “It’s not over yet,” she said, brown eyes still alight with the thrill of the job.

“No, it isn’t.” Lou couldn’t prevent a grin from spreading across her face.  

“Home?”

“Oh, yes,” Lou said firmly. “I haven’t finished with you, honey. I want to see that dress on my floor.”

“ _Do_ you?”

“I _really_ do.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, baby.”

Debbie squeezed Lou’s hand and pulled her back onto the illuminated paths. They wove their way back to the entrance of the park and walked in comfortable silence along 79th Street to the ramp where Lou’s bike was parked. Debbie settled against Lou’s back, and as she started the ignition, Lou came to the full and complete realization that this was where she belonged: wrapped up in Debbie. Always.

 

**Summer 2018**

Sometimes the world could be painfully beautiful. There was something clear and constant about the way the mist hung around El Capitan. There was something mysterious about how the redwoods were older than ancient, and how the Pacific Highway smelled like brine and petrol and perfume. There was something magical about the sun sinking into the Pacific Ocean, turning the water into lava before Lou’s eyes. She had conned her way into a cheap motel for the night, not that she needed to save money, but she liked the challenge. It gave her a story to tell Debbie when she got home. _Home_. She stood with her bare feet in the foam on a quiet beach wondering if she’d ever touched this water before. Had this same wave washed over her supine form as she lay dreaming on a Melbourne beach more than thirty years ago? Had these droplets flowed under the Brooklyn Bridge the day she first beheld the New York City skyline? She had cried that day; she still didn’t know why. Could this tide contain her tears?

She dipped her fingers into the sea and brought them to her mouth, tasting salt. Bending lower, she cupped the water in her hands and splashed it over her face. Lou wasn’t sentimental, but flowing water could wear away diamonds into dust if you gave it enough time, and she was softer than diamonds. Perhaps that’s why she’d always found them to be dull, lacking in depth and meaning, devoid of character. The water dripped off her nose and chin, falling back to itself. The setting sun shone through the droplets turning them into jewels.

 _Never turn your back on the ocean_. Lou remembered that adage as though it was written into her skin. She’d paid the price for forgetting it when she was twelve, still bore a scar on her right elbow from where they’d had to reset the bone. The wave had hit her so hard that she didn’t remember slamming into one of the boulders on the breakwater. The doctors were worried she had shattered her growth plate, but she’d defied their expectations. Today, in the quiet California cove where big waves broke long before they reached the shore, Lou took the risk and turned to look up at the mountains behind her, painted red and pink and gold on this longest day of the year. Over those mountains and far away, she knew Debbie was waiting. She was probably reading _Sherlock Holmes_ or listening to Bach – not that horrible Toccata, though; Lou had thrown that record away years ago. Besides, Debbie was happy. She had other soundtracks for happiness, ones that made Lou happy too, because Debbie would smile like the music was telling her a secret. Lou loved that smile, loved that there were parts of Debbie she would never understand.

Lou said her farewell to the sea and picked up her shoes from where they sat on the rocky beach. She walked slowly back to the hotel, her eyes still fixed on the mountains towering above her, which were slowly fading to purple and blue in the gathering twilight. She hadn’t placed a time constraint on her victory lap, but after five weeks on her own, she was starting to feel it was time to go home – home to New York City and her club, home to the loft and to Debbie. _East tomorrow_ , Lou thought as she lay back on the shitty motel mattress and turned off the light. This time when she saw Debbie, she would say the words she’d been meaning to say for six years, ever since she’d stood looking at Lake Michigan on a solstice night much like tonight, the night her world had shattered. And the words had been true much longer than that, probably since the very first night they met in that seedy Bronx club.

Lou pictured Debbie’s face, pictured her smiling the way she had when Lou walked towards her across 5th Avenue in that David Bowie jumpsuit. _I love you, Debs_ , Lou thought. _I love you. I love you. I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting Chapter 5 in a few days! In the meantime, check out my other Loubbie fic, "Diamonds, Rust, and Opals," which fits between this chapter and the next one. It's from both their perspectives, but it's the same headcannon and fills in what happens between Lou's return to New York and where Chapter 5 will begin. There are probably a few minor inconsistencies, but overall they fit together.


	5. Vivace - Opals and Sapphires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned, this chapter is set after the events in my other fic, "Diamonds, Rust, and Opals." All you really need to know though is: Lou returned from California and told Debbie she loves her (fucking finally). Debbie proposed to Lou with an opal ring, and Lou said yes (obviously). That doesn't really spoil much of the plot of that fic, so I still would heckin' love for you to read it and let me know what you think (if you haven't already)! <3 :)

**Autumn 2018**

Lou awoke to the sound of Debbie’s phone buzzing on the bedside table. Outside the sky was still dark, but the birds were already awake, heralding the coming dawn. Debbie groaned and flung out a hand to silence her device, but Lou heard her pause when she saw the name on the screen.

“Hey!” She nudged Lou with her elbow. “Hey, baby, wake up. We have to take this.”

“Who?” Lou grunted into the pillow without sitting up.

“Tammy.” Debbie swiped her thumb across the screen to answer the call and put the phone on speaker between them on the bed.

“What’s up, Tim-Tam?” Lou rasped. “Are you aware that it’s not even the ass-crack of dawn?”

“Nice to hear your voice, Lou,” Tammy said in a bright, sarcastic tone.

“What’s going on, Tammy?” Debbie was in full business mode, and Lou could hear a note of anxiety in her voice.

“I get those annoying daily news summaries from the _New York Times_ , and you’re going to be interested in this one,” Tammy said. Lou could hear the sound of a coffee maker in the background. Tammy had always been a morning person.  

“Get to the point, Tammy,” Debbie said.

Tammy sighed. “The top headline is about a certain crown jewels exhibit. This is it, ladies. Today’s the day we find out if we really, _actually_ , pulled this thing off.”

Lou caught Debbie’s eye and reached out to take her hand. Debbie squeezed it and then let go to run her thumb back and forth over the opals and gold on Lou’s ring finger. It was soothing. Debbie had given her the ring over a month ago, and she hadn’t taken it off since. Every time she caught sight of it on her finger, it felt like the first time she’d seen it, sitting in a blue box in Debbie’s palm.  

“You got an eye on our accounts?” Debbie asked. Lou refocused on the conversation.

“Both eyes,” Tammy replied, “and Nine Ball’s on top of it, just…I don’t know…”

“What, Tammy?” Debbie prompted.

“Let’s just say I’m going to be making extra sure my kids know I love them today, okay?”

Lou looked at the nonplussed look on Debbie’s face and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Tammy,” she said, her eyes now fixed on Debbie’s, “I hear you. Thanks. We’ll check in with you later.”

“Debbie?” Tammy said before Lou could end the call.

“Yeah?” Debbie said, the confused look still hovering on her face.

There was a pause on the other end of the line as if Tammy was considering her words very carefully. “Whatever happens, I want you to know, you did good.”

“Thanks,” Debbie said. Lou smiled up at the slightly rueful expression on Debbie’s face. She could be cocky as hell sometimes, but she was still terrible at taking compliments, especially at 5:00 am when she hadn’t put on her armor of smoky eye makeup and stilettos.

“And I’m glad you’re happy,” Tammy finished.

Lou saw a soft pink tinge rise on Debbie’s cheeks. Debbie didn’t respond.

“You made her blush, Tim-Tam,” Lou said through a grin that turned to a wince as Debbie pinched her upper arm.

“Good.”

“Bye, Tammy,” Debbie said firmly, reaching over to end the call.

Lou lay back on the pillows and chuckled at the look on Debbie’s face.

“You’re the _worst_.” Debbie plopped down next to her. “And what did Tammy mean by that stuff about her kids?”

Lou snorted with laughter and turned her head on the pillow. “Seriously? You don’t know what she was getting at?”

“No.” Debbie shook her head. “What?”

“It didn’t ring _any_ bells for you?” Lou was still finding it difficult not to laugh at the look on Debbie’s face.

“No. Lou, just tell me.”

Lou propped herself up on her elbow to get a better look at Debbie’s face and make sure she was serious. Debbie’s brow was knitted slightly, her expression concerned.  

“I love you, Debbie,” Lou said, planting a kiss on her forehead before settling herself back on her pillows. She didn’t think she would ever tire of the way those words felt on her tongue.  

“Yeah, baby, I…me too.” Debbie still sounded confused, but Lou trusted her to work it out on her own. Debbie still wasn’t the best with feelings, but given time, she would get there. She’d proven that with opals and gold almost two months ago. Lou turned over, her back still flush with Debbie’s side. It had been three months since Lou had first said the words she had clung to for what felt like forever. She had finally let them fall from her mouth – unable to contain them any longer – as Debbie blinked her eyes awake on a mild July morning. To her utter and lasting astonishment, Debbie had said them back, whispered “I love you” against Lou’s skin. In that moment, something had shifted, as if their decades-long dances around each other had suddenly become a single pas-de-deux. Lou smiled at the memory of Debbie’s face when she had held out the opal ring to Lou at the beginning of August: shy and beautiful and proud all at once.

Debbie shifted next to her. Lou felt breath on the back of her neck as an arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close enough to feel Debbie’s heartbeat against her back. Debbie might not know how to translate her emotions into words, but she knew how to _act_ , how to _touch_. The way Debbie’s hands traveled over Lou’s stomach told her she had finally caught up, understood what Tammy had meant on the phone: _hold tight to those you love today, just in case_.

“I get it now,” Debbie whispered into Lou’s neck.

Lou smiled. “Do you? What was that, five minutes?

“Something like that,” Debbie replied in a dignified tone.

“Impressive.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m serious. You’re improving.”

Debbie was quiet, and Lou knew she was deciding whether or not to take her words at face value or respond with another sarcastic quip. “Thanks,” she finally murmured, her breath ghosting over the skin behind Lou’s ear and making her shiver.

Lou hummed her approval and brought Debbie’s hand to her mouth to kiss it.

“You know I love you,” Debbie said. Her tone was blunt, as if she were reviewing a weather forecast. Sometimes removing the pressure of sentiment made the words easier for Debbie to say. It was a strategy they’d developed together.  

“I know,” Lou replied. She smiled fondly and placed another kiss on Debbie’s knuckles.

“And we both know they’re not going to catch us.”

“We do, but Tammy always worries.”

“Do _you_?”

Lou was taken aback by the question and wasn’t sure what Debbie wanted or needed to hear. She allowed her response to swirl against her teeth before she spoke, her mouth still pressed against Debbie’s hand. “I trust you, Debs.”

Lou felt Debbie nod against her shoulder, but she didn’t speak, waiting for Lou to explain.

“I trust you,” she said again, “but I also know what it felt like to not have you around. It felt like shit, and I know it was my choice to leave all those years ago, but… _God_ , I…I _missed_ you. And after all we’ve been through, I know how easy it is for everything to collapse and not have it be anyone’s fault.” The words were pouring out of her now, tumbling over one another as if she had been meaning to say them all her life. “So,” she went on, purposely trying to slow down, to make sure that Debbie heard it all. “I’m not going to choose special days to tell you I love you. As far as I’m concerned,” Lou sighed as her mind flicked over to an unwanted montage of the time she’d spent alone during the first years of Debbie’s sentence, with only a broken and judgmental version of herself for company. “As far as I’m concerned, every day is a good day to make sure you know that I want you here with me – like you said, ‘every step of the way’ – forever.”

“Is this _your_ proposal?” Debbie said with a snicker and a kiss behind Lou’s ear.

“If you like.”

“I do. I like it.” Debbie sounded sincere.

Lou turned so that they were once more face to face. “Do _you_ worry, Debs?”

Debbie considered her. “About jobs? No.” She sighed and shook her head. “No. Sometimes I think I should, but…” she shrugged. “…I…I just don’t. I think if I did it wouldn’t work.” Lou nodded and was about to speak when Debbie opened her mouth again. “But about you? About _losing_ you? About having to go back to prison? About the _fact_ that Danny might actually be dead?” She looked Lou straight in the eyes as she spoke. Her words were hard, almost like a challenge. “Lou, I can’t even…” She trailed off. “Why do you think I have to keep my brain so busy even when there isn’t a job?”

“I figured that was just an Ocean thing.”

“It is,” Debbie conceded with a nod, “But it’s more than that, too. When you left, all those years ago…” Debbie sighed and closed her eyes. Lou waited. “I thought I’d be fine, because I knew it was what _you_ needed,” Debbie said finally, “but it felt—”

“—Like shit?”

“Yeah, it really did. I made some bad calls because of that. I needed to distract myself, so I…I fucked up.” Debbie’s eyes were soft when she opened them again. She reached up and ran a hand through Lou’s hair, fingers catching at a few loose snarls.

Lou smiled and placed a line of open-mouthed kisses along Debbie’s jaw and over to her lips. She sucked Debbie’s lower lip into her mouth and pushed her gently into the pillows until she was lying flat on her back with Lou on top of her. Lou moved her mouth down the side of Debbie’s neck and felt her squirm, her legs parting slightly, allowing Lou to slip a thigh between them. Her hips rose to find friction. Lou nibbled a mark into the top of Debbie’s shoulder and heard a soft cry of pleasure fall from Debbie’s lips.

“Baby…” Debbie muttered, the word turning to a groan as Lou moved gentle, searching fingers over Debbie’s stomach.

“Yeah?” Lou moved to hover her mouth over Debbie’s left nipple and looked up at her through her bangs. “Tell me.”

“ _Fuck_ me.”

Lou smiled around Debbie’s nipple and moved her hand lower to slip a single long finger easily inside her. She hummed with pleasure against Debbie’s skin as she felt Debbie’s hips rise to meet her hand. Lou kissed her way back up to Debbie’s mouth as she added a second finger and established a rhythm, keeping her wrist steady and allowing the thrusts to travel down her arm from her shoulder. Debbie broke their kiss to gasp for air, and Lou returned to Debbie’s neck, feeling Debbie’s movements become erratic around her hand.

“I love you,” Lou murmured into Debbie’s ear, “Love you like this, love how you feel, love you _always_.” Debbie’s hand found its way to the back of Lou’s head and held her close. Her fingers quivering against her scalp. “I’m yours, honey, _yours_ ,” Lou whispered. Debbie’s hips pressed against Lou’s hand, and she let out a shuddering moan.

Lou smiled into Debbie’s neck as she slowed her fingers and felt Debbie’s breaths gradually return to normal. She kissed her way over Debbie’s shoulder and down her chest to her left breast, letting her tongue move lazily around her nipple and over the scar that remained a mystery to Lou. Debbie twitched beneath her, and Lou looked up to a see that Debbie’s eyes were closed, her expression peaceful in a way that Lou rarely saw it. She rested her cheek against Debbie’s ribs and heard the beating of her heart. Everything was still; then…

“I don’t know who it was,” Debbie said quietly, her eyes still closed.

“What?” Lou asked, her gaze still fixed on Debbie’s face.  

Debbie raised a hand to gesture vaguely at the scar before letting her arm fall heavily back onto the sheets.

“Oh,” Lou said with a sigh.

“I didn’t catch her name, but I assume she knew my father or Danny or _someone_. They must have screwed her over at some point, probably without even realizing it.” Debbie shrugged.

Lou stayed silent, afraid of what Debbie was going to tell her and even more terrified that she would bottle it all up again before she got the words out. She kept her eyes on Debbie’s face, which was still calm.

“I woke up to a lot of blood, and to my life flashing before my eyes. Didn’t know what to do.” Debbie shook her head back and forth on the pillow and was silent for a long moment. “So,” she said finally, “I lied. I let them believe I’d done it to myself. That’s what they assumed, and I just didn’t bother to correct them. Ended up with stitches and a few months in solitary, but at least I could finally _think_.”

Lou swallowed around the nausea in her throat, feeling dizzy and disgusted. “I’m sorry, Debbie.”

Debbie shrugged and winced. “Yeah.” She blinked her eyes open to look down at Lou. “It was a long time ago now.”

Lou nodded and tried not to think about where she had been when it had happened – probably in a bar somewhere drunk off her ass, or blowing smoke out the window of some other woman’s bedroom. She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed the memories away, taking deep breaths against Debbie’s skin, allowing her scent to permeate her mind and wash the memories away.  

“So,” Debbie said after a few minutes of silence.

“So?” Lou looked back at Debbie and saw a soft smile on her face.

“Did you find me a ring yet?”

Lou grinned. Her pulse quickened, and she felt heat rise in her cheeks. “How did you know?”

“I always know.”

Lou rolled her eyes and pulled herself up to sit with her back against the headboard. She reached over and opened the drawer in her bedside table. The box she had picked up from Amita a few days ago was covered in white satin. The fabric tingled under her skin as she opened it and held it out to Debbie. She heard Debbie exhale as her eyes darted over the platinum and sapphires before her.

“Lou…” Her eyes darted upwards to Lou’s face.

Lou smiled at the expression on Debbie’s face and felt the whole world stand still.  

“ _Yes_ ,” Debbie said before Lou could wrap her tongue around the words she had planned to say. “Obviously,” she added, holding out her hand with a smirk.  

Lou laughed and shook her head. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled the ring from the box and slid it onto Debbie’s finger. Debbie held her beringed hand next to the opals and gold on Lou’s finger, and they both sat speechless for a moment. Lou’s heart was beating hard enough to jump out of her chest.  

“I never thought I’d be this excited about jewelry I didn’t steal,” Debbie finally muttered.

“Me neither,” Lou agreed quietly. It was exceedingly difficult to keep a straight face. “The crown jewels had nothing on this.”

Debbie grinned and leaned into Lou, resting her head on her shoulder. Soft grey light spread across the room as the day began in earnest, and the sounds of traffic grew louder. Lou’s thoughts traveled far, far away to where a group of perplexed lapidaries and historians were tearing their hair out over tiaras that had already been deconstructed and re-sold months before. She understood Tammy’s anxiety, understood that there were risks even with every contingency accounted for, but she couldn't bring herself to worry or even to care, at least not yet. That was for later. For now, she was content. Debbie nestled closer into her side and brought her hand to rest on Lou’s thigh. The sapphires sparkled in the early dawn light, and Lou simply breathed.

 

**

 

“That it then?” Constance asked, looking from the news broadcast Nine Ball had pulled up on the projector screen and then over to where Lou and Debbie were sitting on the stairs. Lou was sitting a step above Debbie, and Debbie’s elbow was resting on her thigh. Bright afternoon sunlight shone outside, but they had long since pulled the curtains closed in order to watch the news roll in about the stolen crown jewels.

“Hang on,” Lou said, looking over at Constance and holding a finger in the air. The reporter ran through the names of suspects again. Lou could practically see the gears in Debbie’s head clicking through the names, scanning for pseudonyms or codes, double and triple checking to make sure none of the eight of them were implicated.

“Nine Ball?” Debbie prompted. Lou squeezed Debbie’s shoulder.  

Nine Ball tapped a few keys on her laptop and then looked up at Debbie. “We clear, boss.” Tammy let out a sigh of relief and everyone began talking at once. Lou bent forward and kissed the top of Debbie’s head. Debbie was watching the others with a slightly bemused expression on her face.

“Cheers, Jailbird,” Lou said quietly, holding up her beer.  

Debbie raised hers and clinked it against Lou’s. “Cheers, baby.”

Lou took a swig and smirked at the look on Debbie’s face. “Come on, Debs.” Lou said, waving a hand at the room in front of them. “You remember when it felt like you’d conquered the world every time you pulled off a job?”

Debbie shook her head. “Not really. _I_ feel good when I finish a plan, or when the take ends up being more than I expected, but I always know that the job will work, or that it _should_ work.”

Lou shrugged and smiled. “You’re one of a kind.”

“But you’re the same way!” Debbie said, twisting her neck to look up at Lou, eyes sparkling.  

Lou nodded. “Now I am, yeah. But that first time I watched you pull off a job? The first time we worked together all those years ago?” Lou paused for a moment and held Debbie’s gaze. The over-loud subwoofer of the Steamboat Club seemed to thud across the intervening decades. “There’s nothing quite like that.”

Debbie smiled reminiscently and turned to look back at the room before them. “That was a good one.”

“Yeah, it was, and you know, if that place hadn’t blown sky high, I might never have joined up with you, and then where would we be?”

“Not here,” Debbie said seriously.

“Damn right.”  

They watched the others for a few more minutes in silence. Daphne and Amita were thumbing through Lou’s collection of vinyl, Tammy was on the phone reassuring her son that she would be home tomorrow, and the rest of them were gathered around Nine Ball’s laptop snickering at a re-run of the broadcast they’d just watched. Debbie rested her cheek against Lou’s knee, and Lou ran her fingers through her hair.

“Is there a date for the Becker trial yet?” Lou asked.

“They’re talking end of December,” Debbie replied.

“That’ll be one _hell_ of a Christmas present,” she said with a smirk.

Debbie nodded. “That’ll be the end of it.” She stretched her legs out in front of her and tapped her heels on the edge of the bottom step.

Lou smiled and placed a kiss on Debbie’s temple. Debbie was right that the jobs felt different when you _knew_ they would work. That’s what made it so disappointing when things went wrong that even Debbie couldn’t predict – like Claude Becker, like the fence who walked all those years before at the casino in New Jersey, like the Steamboat Club blowing sky high just when Lou thought she’d made it. But this time, everything had gone right for them, right enough to leave a combined total of nearly eighty million dollars at their disposal. Lou couldn’t begin to tell Debbie the depth of her happiness and pride, couldn’t help but grin at the subtle blush that crept into Debbie’s cheeks every time one of the team came over to clap her on the shoulder or to thank her or to ask her – for the _millionth_ time – how she did it. Riding the waves of their success felt good. It felt right. _And yet_ , Lou thought, as she looked down at the sapphire ring on Debbie’s finger, it wasn’t the way it had all run smoothly, it wasn’t the money, and it wasn’t even the satisfaction of framing Becker that made Lou feel on top of the world.

It was Debbie. _Just_ Debbie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm not the only one who chose opals for Lou and sapphires for Debbie, but what's weird is I didn't know that other people had done the same until after this was written. I guess it was just meant to be! 
> 
> This fic got soft because Lou really, really deserved it. I can't help it. I'm domestic af just ask my girlfriend. 
> 
> Oh, and Happy 50th Birthday to Cate Blanchett! Rock on.


	6. Allegretto - The Next Stage

**Winter 2019**

On New Year’s Day, Lou awoke to snow dancing outside the window. She flung an arm out to awaken Debbie and encountered a pillow that was still slightly warm from her body heat but no sign of the woman herself. Even half awake, Lou was vaguely aware of the front door clicking shut downstairs as she pulled herself into a sitting position and reached for a stick of gum from her bedside table, wishing (for the thousandth time) that it was a cigarette and reminding herself (for the thousandth time) that she was trying to quit. She swung her bare feet onto the cold-as-ice floorboards and shivered.

The warmth of the shower was welcome as Lou stepped under the spray a few minutes later, trying to remember if Debbie had told her anything about needing to head out early today. They had stayed out late at Lou’s club the night before and watched twenty-somethings make fools of themselves as they rang in the new year. Lou had kissed Debbie long and hard at midnight before tugging her by the hand into her office and closing the blinds. It had been the best New Year’s Eve in a very long time.

Lou rubbed shampoo into her scalp and remembered being alone at the club last year. She’d gone home early nursing a black eye after stepping in to assist one of her bouncers with a particularly belligerent young man. Then she had awoken in the early afternoon on New Year’s Day to a phone call… _Oh._ It all came flooding back to her, and she hurried to wash out the shampoo, dry her hair, and get dressed. She fastened her watch onto her wrist as she clattered down the metal stairs to the main floor, pausing only to grab her keys and her jacket. It was bitterly cold outside, and Lou was grateful for the fur collar she could pull up around her ears. It took a few tries to start the old Toyota.

“Come _on_!” She muttered, smashing her hand against the dashboard. The engine grumbled into action, and she reversed away from the barbed wire fence. Pulling out onto the road, Lou fiddled with the heater until it sputtered to life. It took a few minutes for the car to warm up, and even when it did she could still feel a sharp, cold breeze through the edge of her window that didn’t quite close all the way. Lou remembered making this drive in the pouring rain almost ten months before, remembered the way her heart had beat in her throat. The knots in her stomach had forced her to stop on the side of the road more than once even though the drive was short. _It’s just Debbie_ , she had told herself between shaky breaths. But she couldn’t prevent the way her hands had become clammy with sweat or the way her left leg had jittered against the underside of the steering wheel. She had been terrified of her own feelings that day, scared that something had broken between them after so many years apart. She had feared her own desires, her own love.

Today, the butterflies in her stomach held a different implication, and as the cemetery came into view, Lou realized she didn’t _want_ Debbie to be in pain. She wished she could take the pain into herself instead just so she wouldn’t have to see it in Debbie’s eyes, yet at the same time, she knew she had no right to rob Debbie of whatever she was feeling. _She can handle it. She_ needs _to handle it_ , Lou reminded herself, as she parked the Toyota outside of the mausoleum. The snow was falling gently onto the grey stones around her in sharp contrast to the anxious pace of her thoughts. As Lou had expected, Debbie was standing silently in front of Danny’s tomb. She had a bouquet of flowers in her hands and there was an empty martini glass sitting next to a shaker on the bench.

“I thought you’d come,” Debbie said as Lou entered the building behind her. She didn’t turn around, and Lou got the feeling she was hiding her face.  

“How did you…?

“The car.”

“Oh, right.” Lou stood awkwardly on the threshold clutching her arms around herself, unsure of what to say.

Debbie stepped forward and placed the flowers in the holder next to the stone with Danny’s engraved name. She sank down on the bench behind her and patted the space beside her. Lou took her hint. The sharp heels of her ankle boots clicked loudly on the marble floor as she walked to Debbie’s side.

“When was the last time you…” Lou trailed off, unsure if she really wanted to ask anything at all, but feeling equally uncomfortable with sitting in silence.

“Last Christmas. Right before he…” Debbie gestured vaguely at marble in front of them. “He came to see me, said he was about to pull off a big one on New Year’s Eve. I told him I had a date for my parole hearing.” Debbie fell silent again and slipped her gloved hand into Lou’s. The wool felt rough under Lou’s numbing fingertips.

“I called him up after that time I went to see you,” Lou said. Debbie leaned her head against her shoulder. “I asked him what the credit line was for, once I’d cracked the code in your note. He wouldn’t tell me, but he said the plan was brilliant, brilliant and _risky_.” Lou smiled in spite of herself, remembering the way Danny’s voice had burst with pride.

“I wish…” Debbie’s voice sounded strange, and she cleared her throat before starting again. “I wish he could’ve seen it. I really do.”

“I know.” Lou squeezed her hand. Debbie turned her head to press a kiss against Lou’s shoulder through her jacket. Lou realized she still hadn’t really looked at Debbie’s face. She was afraid of what she might feel if she saw pain in Debbie’s eyes.

Debbie straightened up and released Lou’s hand, reaching for the shaker and pulling a small jar of olives from her pocket. Lou took a deep breath and looked at her. Debbie wasn’t trying to hide the tear tracks under her eyes. She looked resolute and sad, but strong. Lou was glad she had looked; she felt calmer now that she knew it was still _her_ Debbie – the Debbie she _loved_ – sitting beside her. She smiled as Debbie poured her martini and plopped an olive into it.

“Is it even noon yet?” Lou asked with mock disapproval.

“Lou, it’s two o’clock in the afternoon.”

Lou looked down at her watch in some surprise. “Oh.” She shrugged. “New Year’s Eve always throws me off.”  

Debbie shook her head and smiled against the rim of her glass. “Besides,” she said after taking a sip and passing the glass to Lou, “it’s a special occasion.”  

Lou took a sip of the martini and winced. It really wasn’t her drink.

“I thought we could give him this,” Debbie said, holding out a folded piece of paper to Lou. She unfolded it curiously. The stationary, which Lou recognized as her own from the club, had little drawings of motorcycles in the corners. Across the middle of the page, Debbie had written in neat block letters: _D & L ~ May 4, 2019_. Below that – in messier handwriting as though it had been an afterthought – was written the address of Lou’s club.

“A wedding invitation?”

Debbie shrugged. “Right now, I’m about ninety/ten on him being dead. If he doesn’t show up for this…” She tapped a finger on the date written on the paper. “Well…”

Lou swallowed and looked up at Debbie’s face. “It’s been a whole year, Debs. You really think…?” Debbie gave her a stern look, and Lou trailed off. Debbie took the martini back from her and took a sip.  

“No,” Debbie said bluntly, “I don’t. But I still have to do this.” She took another sip of the martini and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.

Lou saw moisture gather once more in her eyes. She nodded and reached out a hand to wipe away a smudge of mascara from under Debbie’s lashes. Debbie leaned her cheek into Lou’s hand for a moment and closed her eyes. They sat like that for a few moments before Debbie sighed and blinked up at Lou.

“You good?” Lou asked.

“Yeah,” Debbie said with a half-smile. “Come on.” She tugged at Lou’s hand as she stood up. Lou got to her feet and folded the invitation in her hand in half once more. She handed it to Debbie as they stepped forward, and Debbie reached out and tucked it around the bouquet of flowers she’d placed earlier. As Debbie’s arm fell heavily back to her side, Lou wrapped her arms around her and pressed a kiss to her temple, feeling Debbie shaking slightly in her arms. She was crying properly now, and Lou realized she’d never actually seen Debbie cry before – not like this, not in _twenty years_ of knowing her. She was quiet, her face hidden in the collar of Lou’s coat, but Lou felt her sadness as though it was seeping into her own bloodstream from the closeness of Debbie’s heart beating inches from her own. Lou wasn’t sure how long they stood like that. She stroked Debbie’s hair and placed kisses against her hairline. Finally, Debbie pulled back and Lou saw a sad smile on her face as she wiped her eyes.

“After all this,” Debbie said, and Lou could tell she was trying to sound upbeat and frank even though her voice shook slightly, “If he comes back, I’ll kill him.”

“Not if I kill him first,” Lou replied with a genuine smile and a squeeze of Debbie’s hand.

Debbie laughed softly and turned back to the bench to pick up her drink. “You better be in there, asshole,” she said, raising the glass towards Danny’s name and draining it in a single swallow. “You want the olive?” she asked, fishing it out of the glass and turning to Lou.

“Sure.” Lou leaned forward, and Debbie placed it in her mouth. She chewed slowly, realizing she was actually hungry and thinking about the bagels at the deli two blocks from the loft. She hoped they were open, though it was always a toss-up on New Year’s Day. Lou followed Debbie out of the mausoleum and back to the Toyota, which was now covered in a light dusting of snow. It only took two tries to start the engine this time, but Debbie rolled her eyes.

“Lou, you have thirty-eight _million_ dollars, and you still haven’t bought a new car.”

“I know. I like this car.”

“Sure.”

“I do!”

“Whatever you say.”

 

**Spring 2019**

“I thought they’d never leave,” Lou said, closing and locking the front door behind Constance as the sound of her skateboard faded into the night. She turned back to Debbie who was leaning against the counter with a glass of extremely expensive champagne and a relaxed smile on her face. Lou walked over to her and straightened the lapels of Debbie’s white blazer. Her hands came to rest on the counter on either side of Debbie’s hips.

“Congratulations, baby,” Debbie murmured, holding up the glass of champagne for Lou to take a sip. The bubbles jumped on her tongue.

“It was nice of Rusty to show up,” Lou said once she’d swallowed. “He must have seen the note.”

Debbie nodded, though her eyes darted downwards to the floor. “I really thought…”

“I know.”

Debbie looked up again with a watery smile and a sigh. “I love you.”

“I know that, too.” Lou leaned her forehead into Debbie’s.

After a moment, Debbie spoke quietly. “When I was fifteen, I bet Danny twenty dollars and his watch that I’d never get married.”

“You lost.”

“I did.”

“You owe him the watch, then.”

“Yes,” Debbie said through a laugh, twisting the strap on her wrist. “Yes, I do.”

Lou smiled and kissed her, unhurried. They had all night – they had _forever_. Debbie tasted like champagne and lemon cake. Lou thought she’d never get enough, but eventually they broke apart, breathless and a little weak at the knees. She leaned into Debbie and wrapped her arms around her waist, breathing in the lingering scents of her shampoo and her perfume.

“Got any summer plans?” Debbie whispered into Lou’s hair.

Lou rolled her eyes as she pulled back to look at Debbie. “Are you serious?”

“Maybe.” There was a wild glint in Debbie’s eyes, the sign of a plan percolating in her brain.

Lou shook her head in disbelief. “I thought you were going to play it slow for a while.”

“I am,” Debbie said. “It’s not a _big_ job, just a _fun_ job. It can be our honeymoon.”

Lou laughed and took a sip of champagne.

“We always talked about pulling something at Coney Island, and I finally came up with an idea the other day. It’ll take a couple months to work out the kinks, but it’s short and sweet, and the payout’s not bad.”

Lou considered her with slightly narrowed eyes. “No revenge plots this time?”

“Nope.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Lou nodded. “Okay, you can run me through it in the morning. For now…” She pulled Debbie by the hand, away from the counter, and towards the stairs. “…I have other plans.”

“I’m interested.” Debbie smirked, reaching out to loosen Lou’s tie.  

“You should be.”

 

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me! It's been an absolute joy. :)
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on Instagram (hope_savaria) - my insta is primarily an art page, but you can always DM me if you have Loubbie ideas or just want to chat (idk that might be weird, but I know sometimes the Internet gets lonely and it's nice to have someone to talk to). Also, the world is kinda shit right now, so staying connected is important. 
> 
> I do have another fic in the works: POV Debbie and takes place after this one. It's a little heavy, and it may take a bit of time for me to finish it (I have to write things start to finish before I even begin to post #perfectionist), but I can promise I won't be away too long! Subscribe to my username and you'll be the first to know when it's published!

**Author's Note:**

> For the classical music geeks out there: This story is very loosely based on a multi-movement Sonata structure. The first two chapters represent two first-movement forms (Allegro and Theme/Variations), chapters 3 and 4 represent two middle-movement forms (Lento and Minuet/Trio - obviously these are very different emotional characters), and the last two chapters represent two final-movement forms (Vivace and Allegretto). I mean, what's the use of a musicology degree if you're not working it into fanfiction, right? ;) 
> 
> Kudos and comments make me very, very happy! Please tell me what you think :)


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